and white on
the pillows. And I turned on my face and began to cry.

"Davy, lad!" said the skipper, tenderly, seeking to lift my head. "Hush,
lad! Don't cry!"

But I sobbed the harder.

"Ah, Davy," the twins pleaded, "stop cryin'! Do, now!"

Skipper Tommy took me on his knee; and I hid my face on his breast, and
lay sobbing hopelessly, while he sought to sooth me with many a pat and
"Hush!" and "Never mind!"

"I'm wantin' t' go home," I moaned.

He gathered me closer in his arms. "Do you stay your grief, Davy," he
whispered, "afore you goes."

"I'm wantin' t' go home," I sobbed, "t' my mother!"

Timmie and Jacky came near, and the one patted my hand, and the other
put an arm around me.

"Sure, the twins 'll take you home, Davy," said the skipper, softly,
"when you stops cryin'. Hush, lad! Hush, now!"

They were tender with me, and I was comforted; my sobs soon ceased, but
still I kept my head against the skipper's breast. And while there I
lay, there came from the sea--from the southwest in a lull of the
wind--breaking into the tender silence--the blast of a steam whistle,
deep, full-throated, prolonged.

"Hist!" whispered Jacky. "Does you not hear?"

Skipper Tommy stood me on my feet, and himself slowly rose, listening
intently.

"Lads," he asked, his voice shaking, "was it the mail-boat?"

"No, zur!" the twins gasped.

"Is you sure?"

"'Tis not the way she blows, zur!"

"'Tis surely not she," the skipper mused. "In the sou'west she'd be out
of her course. Hark!"

Once more the long, hoarse roar broke the silence, but now rising again
and again, agonized, like a cry for help.

"Dear Lard!" skipper Tommy cried, putting his hands to his face. "'Tis a
big steamer on the Thirty Black Devils!"

"A wreck!" shouted Jacky, leaping for his jacket. "A wreck! A wreck!"

Distraction seized the skipper. "'Tis a wreck!" he roared. "My boots,
lads! Wreck! Wreck!"

We lads went mad. No steamer had been wrecked on the coast in our time.
There were deeds to do! There was salvage to win!

"Wreck!" we screamed. "Wreck! Wreck! Wreck!"

Then out we four ran. It was after dark. The vault was black. But the
wind had turned the fog to thin mist. The surrounding hills stood
disclosed--solid shadows in the night. Half a gale was blowing from the
sea: it broke over the hills; it swooped from the inky sky; it swept
past in long, clinging gusts. We breasted it heads down. The twins
raised the alarm. Wreck! Wreck! Fo