rowned
the sound of our voices. Uncle Paul, however, still tried to make
himself heard. "Trust still in God. I will endeavour to save Marian,"
he said. "Be prepared, my friends, for whatever may occur; don't lose
your presence of mind." Scarcely had he spoken when the sloop was
dashed with great violence against the trunk of an enormous tree, which,
with several others forming a group, stood out from the forest. The
water rushed rapidly into her, and we felt that she was sinking.

Uncle Paul, taking Marian in his arms, now sprang to the bows, followed
by Arthur, who grasped my hand. "Come along, Guy; I must do my best to
save you," he exclaimed, dragging me along. I did not at the moment see
my father, who was in the after part of the vessel; but I knew that Tim
would do his utmost to save him. Uncle Paul, in a manner a sailor alone
could have accomplished, leaped on to a mass of hanging creepers which
the sloop was at the moment touching; while Arthur and I found
ourselves--I scarcely knew how we had got there--on another part of the
vast trunk, when we instinctively began to climb up the tree. I saw
that two other persons had reached the tree, when loud cries arose; and,
to my dismay, as I looked down from the secure position I had gained, I
could nowhere discover the vessel: she had disappeared. In vain I
called to my father: no reply came. I now perceived the black man Sambo
clinging to the upper part of a bough; and lower down, Kallolo the
native holding on to a part above the water, out of which he had
scrambled.

Just then the cry arose from amid the surging water of "Help!--help! I
shall be after being drowned entirely, if somebody doesn't pick me out
of this!" I recognised Tim's voice; and Arthur and I were about to
clamber down to help him, when Kallolo the native stretched out his
hand, and catching Tim's as he floated by, dragged him out of the water.
We went down to his assistance, and soon had him hauled up safe on the
bough.

Tim had just expressed his gratitude to Kallolo, when he missed my
father. "Ochone! what has become of the master?" he exclaimed. "Shure,
he hasn't been drowned? Ochone!--ahone! what will become of us?" None
of us could answer Tim's question. My father and the brave skipper had
disappeared with the vessel, which, with too much reason, we feared had
gone down. Tim only knew that he had found himself suddenly swept off
the deck, and struggling in the water. Prob