d wish, and we made every attempt to save them,
for they were all crowded together forward. Once the sea drove the boat
so close that we touched her sides, and then a woman pressed before the
men, and reached over the gunnel, extending her arms which held the
child, while several others attempted to get in; but the return of the
wave carried us back so quick from the vessel that, as they attempted to
jump in, they all went to the water, and never appeared again; but I had
caught hold of the child, and laid it down in the sternsheets. We made a
second and third attempt, but in vain. At last the vessel broke up, as
it were, all at once--there was one loud cry, and all was still, except
the roaring and breaking waves which buried them. It wasn't a scene to
make us very lively, Tom; we hoisted the sail, and ran on to the beach
in silence. I took the child in my arms--it had been snatched out of its
warm bed, poor thing, and had nothing on but a calico nightgown. I took
it up to the cottage, which was then Maddox's (I bought it afterward of
the widow with the money I made a-privateering), and I gave it in charge
to Mrs. Maddox. I did intend to have sent it to the workhouse, or
something of that sort; but Mrs. Maddox took a fancy to it, and so did
I, and so I thought I would take care of it, and I christened it by the
name of Betsy Godwin."

[Illustration: BRAMBLE SAVING BESSY.--Marryat, Vol. X., p. 237.]

"You have no idea who she may be?"

"Not a half one. Her cotton gown and cap told nothing; the vessel was
Dutch, that's all I know. She may be the child of the Stadtholder or
the child of the ship's cook. What's the matter?"

"But did you notice any marks upon her person by which she might be
reclaimed?"

"Not I. I only axed Mrs. Maddox whether it were a boy or a girl."

"How old was she then?"

"Well, how can I tell? that's not in my way; but the knowing ones in
these matters said that she must be about eighteen months old, so we
have taken that for a _departure_ as to her age. I love her now as if
she were my own child, and so will you, Tom, like a sister, when you
know her. She calls me her father, and you may do the same, Tom, if you
like, for I will be as good as a father to you, if you are as good a boy
as you now seem to be, I like to be called father, somehow or
another--it sounds pleasant to my ears. But come in now, I think you
have compassed the compass, so you must learn something else.

"There is anoth