of the Captain and
Walter, by the stranded boat, climbing on board through the froth of the
surf; pitched up and down as she tossed and bumped; getting down the
tattered sail and hauling it ashore; jumping on the beach again with
coils of rope; saving all that could be saved. And then, the tide
having risen high, both together left her for the last time, bearing, at
much risk, the anchor with them, which they fastened in a cleft of the
rocks, that when our dear old boat--the home of many and many a fine
time--did break up, something might be left of her.

We could not hear their voices, but saw the gestures for us to come and
help, and in a few minutes we were all engaged carrying the rescued
remnants up to our safe place.

Ugly helped. First he dragged a coil of rope and laid it beside the
cliff; then he got hold of a loaf of bread which had dropped from among
the other provisions, and carried that with some trouble but much pride.

In the storm and darkness, only fitfully broken by the firelight, we ate
our supper under what shelter the low cliff afforded. Our boyish
spirits were much subdued and awed by the peril we had passed through
and the sombre scene about us.

The meal being finished, we made some preparations for the night,
fastening the sail, by the weight of large stones laid on one edge of
it, to the top of the rock, and then bringing its other edge, the boom
side, to the ground and steadying it there with pegs. In that way we
constructed a kind of tent, in which we piled a bedding and covering of
dry seaweed.

The Captain stood by the fire, smoking his pipe and watching our
arrangements. When they were completed, and we boys, gratified with our
success, began to declare our situation "rather jolly," he interrupted
us somewhat abruptly in this way:--

"You chaps always say your prayers before you sleep, I dare say. If so,
you'll not forget them to-night--will you?"

"No, sir," we answered.

"Young shipmates, you remember how Mr Clare talked to you one day in
the _Clear the Track_--eh? Well, then, for the first time in nigh forty
years--think of that, nigh _forty_ years--I said my prayers, the only
ones I ever said, that my--mo--ther taught me; and somehow they came so
clear to me that I felt like as if my--mo--ther was kneeling beside me.
I ran away to sea, like the young fool that I was, when I was eleven
years old. It was going on four years before I came back to my old
home. I had for