or the purpose. Part of the boat's crew were
taken on board in the same way, and then the gig was hoisted up to the
davits with the rest in her.

Before the barge was allowed to come up under the counter, the officer
of the deck wore ship, so as to bring the port quarter, on which the
boat was to be suspended, on the lee side. Her passengers were taken on
deck as those from the gig had been, and she was hoisted up.

"Mr. Kendall, I congratulate you upon the success of your labors," said
Mr. Lowington, when the second lieutenant reached the deck. "You have
handled your boat exceedingly well, and you deserve a great deal of
credit."

"That's a fact, sir," added Boatswain Peaks, touching his cap. "I hardly
spoke a word to him, and I've seen many a boat worse handled in a sea."

Paul blushed at the praise bestowed upon him, but he was proud and happy
to have done his duty faithfully on this important occasion. The same
commendation was given to the first lieutenant, after the barge had been
hauled up to the davits, and the order given for the ship to fill away
again.

The women and children were conducted to the professors' cabin as soon
as they came on board, and the seamen were taken into the steerage. All
of them were exhausted by the anxiety and the hardships they had
endured, and as soon as their safety was insured, they sank almost
helpless under the pressure of their physical weakness.

"This is a school ship, I'm told," said Captain Greely, the master of
the shipwrecked vessel, who had also been invited to the main cabin.

"Yes, sir; we call it the Academy Ship, and we have eighty-seven young
gentlemen on board," replied Mr. Lowington.

"They are smart boys, sir. I never saw boats better handled than those
which brought us off from the ship," added Captain Greely, warmly.

"Your voyage has come to an unfortunate conclusion," said Mr. Lowington.

"Yes, sir; I have lost my ship, but I thank God my wife and children are
safe," answered the weather-beaten seaman, as he glanced at one of the
women while the great tears flowed down his sun-browned cheeks.

"Poor children!" sighed Mr. Agneau, as he patted the little girl on the
head; and his own eyes were dim with the tears he shed for others' woes.

Captain Greely told his story very briefly. His ship was the Sylvia,
thirty days out of Liverpool, bound to New York. She had encountered a
heavy gale a week before, in which she had badly sprung her mainmast.
Fin