eared mountains of
heaving water, each succeeding sea threatening to swallow up the
labouring ship. Archy was surprised at the calmness of the officers and
crew, when he expected every moment that one of those tremendous seas
would come on board, and send the ship to the bottom. He wished that he
could pray, as his mother had taught him to do, but he dared not; yet he
trembled at the thought of what would happen.

Night came on--the gale seemed to increase. He, with all except the
watch on deck, had gone below.

"What, lad, art afraid?" asked Max, who observed his pale countenance.
"You thought a life at sea was all sunshine and calm."

"I have found out what it is, and I wish that I had not been fool enough
to come," answered Archy, with some bitterness.

Max laughed. "Many a lad thinks like you," he said. "They get
accustomed to it, and so must you, though the training is not pleasant,
I'll allow."

While Max was speaking, a tremendous blow was felt, as if the ship had
struck a rock, and then came a sound of rending and crashing timbers,
while the water rushed down the hatchway.

"The ship's on her beam ends," cried several voices, and all hands
sprang on deck. Archy followed. A scene of wreck and destruction met
his sight. The sea had swept over the ship, carrying away the
staunchions, bulwarks, and rails, the binnacle, and the chief portion of
the wheel. A fearful shriek reached his ears, and he caught sight for
an instant of a man clinging to the binnacle. No help could be afforded
him--the poor fellow knew that too well; still he clung to life; but in
a few seconds a sea washed over him and he disappeared.

The captain was on deck, calmly issuing his orders,--the crew flew to
obey them, while Archy clung to the main-mast, expecting every moment to
be his last. Things were at length put to rights; spare spars were
lashed to the remaining staunchions--life lines were stretched along the
deck, fore and aft. The names of the crew were then called over--two
did not answer, another, it was found, had unseen been carried to his
dread account.

The next day was the Sabbath. The gale had moderated, and the ship was
again put on her course. On that day the captain invariably invited all
not on duty to assemble for service in his cabin; Max and a few others
generally made excuses for not attending. The captain took this
occasion to speak of the uncertainty of human life.

"The fate of our shipmates