of the ship. They stood locked hand in hand at the
edge of the Quay; not a word was uttered by either; but they gazed
at each other with a fondness which showed that their souls were in
communion.

"Now, William, jump on board--cast off there forward," exclaimed the
captain; "swing her head round--heave away my boys--come, William,
come my boy."

The youth awoke as from a startled sleep. He imprinted a kiss, the
last kiss, upon the cold cheeks of his benefactress, and dashing away
with the sleeve of his jacket a tear, of which he felt ashamed, in a
moment he was on the quarter deck of his commander. He durst not look
again upon the Quay; but had he looked he would have seen many a
weeping maiden who had never told her love, and he would have seen his
affectionate benefactress borne away in a fainting fit. All this he
saw not, for he braced his courage up before his future messmates, and
he looked forward to his duties, considering the past as but a dream.

Months elapsed and tidings were frequently received of William. He had
distinguished himself by his activity and docility. His townsmen
heard with pleasure of his good conduct, and looked forward with
satisfaction to welcome his return; when at length a pilot boat
brought intelligence that the ship was lying at anchor at the mouth of
the harbour, waiting the next tide with loss of foremast in a heavy
gale the preceding night off the Bill of Portland. His benefactress,
impatient of delay, immediately hired a boat, and preceded to the ship
before the tide had turned; but she no sooner reached the deck than
she was informed by the captain that William was aloft when the
foremast went by the board on the preceding night, and that he fell
into the raging waves without the possibility of relief being afforded
him.

"God's will be done," murmured the unhappy woman as she clasped her
hands, and taking her station at the gangway, she continued gazing on
the water as it rippled by, in a state of unconsciousness to every
passing object. In the meantime the vessel was under weigh, and was
coming once more in sight of Brownsea, when a plunge was heard--"she's
overboard," exclaimed a sailor--"cut away some spars--lower the
boats--over with the hen coops--down with the helm, and back the
topsails"--roared out many voices; but she had sunk to rise no more!
Her corpse was found a few days after when the tide receded, lying on
a mud bank, close to the buoy which has ever since be