ain made the final inquiry, "Does any one yet see him?"
An ominous silence gave the sad response. "Then it is hopeless waiting
longer. Fill the main-topsail. Up with the helm."

Scarcely had the captain uttered these words in a loud voice, than a
hand in the main-top hailed the deck with the words, "I hear a voice
from down to leeward, sir."

I had heard it also, I was certain. It was O'Connor's manly voice. It
was not a shriek, the death-wail of a struggling wretch, but a bold,
nervous hail.

"Hold fast then with the main-topsail braces," cried the captain. There
was no need of that order, by the bye. "Keep the helm down. Stand by
to lower the starboard quarter boat." It was the lee one.

"Volunteers, away!" Several sprung to the falls. I was among the
first; so was Tom Derrick, an active young topman. He leaped into the
bow as the boat was being lowered; I into the stern to unhook the after
falls; the rest of the volunteer crew followed. The boat was lifting
and pitching with fearful violence alongside, to the great risk of being
swamped. Poor Derrick stood up to clear the falls, I believe, or to
fend off the bow of the boat from the ship's side. I saw his figure in
an erect position for an instant--the boat's bow pitched into the sea--
the next instant he was gone. In vain the man close to him tried to
grasp him--he went down like a shot; not a cry was heard, not a sign of
him was again seen.

There was no time to be lost, if we would save O'Connor. Every moment
the fury of the gale was increasing. Our oars were out, and over the
foaming sea we pulled in the direction whence the voice had come. The
ship rose towering astern of us, her dark masts lifting and falling
against the leaden sky. By her we guided our course. We thought we
must have reached the spot where O'Connor should have been.

"Be alive, shipmates," said a voice close to us. "In bow oar, and lend
us a hand." It was O'Connor's voice. He was swimming with perfect
composure close to us on the top of a wave, and striking out toward the
bows, so as to avoid the stern. He was with some little difficulty
hauled on board, for he had not a stitch of clothing on with which we
could catch hold of him.

"Thank ye, shipmates all," he exclaimed, as he sprung into the
stern-sheets. "But lend us a jacket, some one, will ye? for it's bitter
cold out of the water, and I've left all mine, do ye see, for Daddy
Neptune, when he wants a new