and round, like living things, and finally
gave up the struggle and were borne away down stream.

"Only, in the real maelstrom," he said, "they don't be carried away;
they go over the edge, down into the black hole, whole ships and ships,
and you never see them again. I wonder where they stop, or whether it
goes through to the other side of the world."

A great log came drifting along, and struck against a pier; the end
swung round, and it rested for a few moments, beating against the wooden
wall. This, it was evident, was a wrecked vessel, and it behooved the
boy John, as a hero and a life-saver, to rescue her passengers. Seizing
a pole, he lay down on his stomach and carefully drew the log toward
him, murmuring words of cheer the while.

"They are almost starved to death!" he said, pitifully. "The captain is
tied to the mast, and they have not had anything to eat but boots and a
puppy for three weeks. The mate and some of the sailors took all the
boats and ran away,--at least, not ran, but went off and left the rest
of 'em; and they have all said their prayers, for they are very good
folks, and the captain didn't _want_ to kill the puppy one bit, but he
had to, or else they would all be dead now. And--and the reckoning was
dead,--I wonder what that means, and why it is dead so often,--and so
they couldn't tell where they were, but they knew that there were
cannibals on _almost_ all the islands, and this was the hungriest time
of the year for cannibals."

Here followed a few breathless moments, during which the captain, his
wife and child, and the faithful members of the crew, were pulled up to
the wharf by the unaided arm of the boy John. He wrapped them in hot
blankets and gave them brandy and peanut taffy: the first because it was
what they always did in books; the second because it was the best thing
in the world, and would take away the nasty taste of the brandy.

Leaving them in safety, and in floods of grateful tears, the rescuer
bent over the side of the wharf once more, intent on saving the gallant
ship from her fate; but at this moment came a strong swirl of tide, the
log swung round once more and floated off, and the rescuer fell "all
along" into the water. This was nothing unusual, and he came puffing and
panting up the slippery logs, and sat down again, shaking himself like a
Newfoundland puppy. He wished the shipwrecked crew had not seen him; he
knew he should get a whipping when he reached home, but