t hurriedly
down the stair.

When he opened the cabin door he stood still for a moment in surprise,
and looked about him. He had expected to find Elizabeth sitting up, with
the child on her lap, and looking frightened. In place of that all was
quiet, and the lamp was nearly out. He strode on and took the glass from
the wall; and after a couple of attempts, managed to light a match, in
spite of the damp, and held it to the barometer. He remained then
standing with it in his hand, and listened to hear whether she was
asleep or not. Involuntarily he approached the berth, and looked into
it.

"Elizabeth," he whispered, softly, as if he was afraid of waking her.

"Is that you, Salve?" was the reply, in a perfectly calm voice.

"I thought you would be sitting up with the boy in this gale. She rolls
so; and I--I haven't been down to see you," he said.

"I knew I had you on deck, Salve," she replied. "The rest we must only
leave to God. You have not had time to come down, poor fellow," she
added, "you have been so busy."

"Elizabeth!" he exclaimed, with a sudden pang of passionate remorse, and
reached over impetuously into the berth to embrace her with his wet
clothes.

At that moment a crash was heard, accompanied by a violent trembling of
the ship, and loud cries on deck. Something had evidently given way.

With the same movement with which he had intended to embrace her, he
lifted her quickly out of the berth, and told her to dress herself and
the child, and come up to the top of the cabin stairs. The words were
hardly out of his mouth when the vessel heeled over, and didn't right
herself again.

"Fore-topmast gone, captain; rigging hanging!" bawled Nils Buvaagen down
the stair.

Salve turned to her for a moment with a face full of mute, crushing
self-reproach, and sprang up on deck.

"Keep her away, if she'll answer her helm!" he shouted to the man at the
wheel. "To the axes, men!"

The brig lay over on one side, with her brittle rigging at the mercy of
the wind and sea, the waves making a clean breach over her. Salve
himself went up and cut away the topmast, which went over the side to
leeward; and as the first grey light of dawn appeared, and made the
figures of the crew dimly distinguishable, the axes were still being
feverishly plied in strong hands among the stays, backstays, and topmast
rigging. While the work was going on the fearful rolling caused first
the main-topgallant sail to go, and then the to