churches were ripped off, and "shrivelled up like scrolls of parchment."
Nothing on land or water was spared by the remorseless gale. Most of the
vessels lying in the river were driven from their moorings, dashed
tumultuously against each other, or blown ashore. All was darkness,
horror, confusion, ruin. Men fled from their tottering habitations, and
returned to them scared by greater dangers. The end of the world seemed
at hand.

At this time of universal havoc and despair,--when all London quaked at
the voice of the storm,--the carpenter, who was exposed to its utmost
fury, fared better than might have been anticipated. The boat in which
he rode was not overset. Fortunately, her course had been shifted
immediately after the rescue of the child; and, in consequence of this
movement, she received the first shock of the hurricane, which blew from
the southwest, upon her stern. Her head dipped deeply into the current,
and she narrowly escaped being swamped. Righting, however, instantly
afterwards, she scudded with the greatest rapidity over the boiling
waves, to whose mercy she was now entirely abandoned. On this fresh
outburst of the storm, Wood threw himself instinctively into the bottom
of the boat, and clasping the little orphan to his breast, endeavoured
to prepare himself to meet his fate.

While he was thus occupied, he felt a rough grasp upon his arm, and
presently afterwards Ben's lips approached close to his ear. The
waterman sheltered his mouth with his hand while he spoke, or his voice
would have been carried away by the violence of the blast.

"It's all up, master," groaned Ben, "nothin' short of a merracle can
save us. The boat's sure to run foul o' the bridge; and if she 'scapes
stavin' above, she'll be swamped to a sartainty below. There'll be a
fall of above twelve foot o' water, and think o' that on a night as 'ud
blow a whole fleet to the devil."

Mr. Wood _did_ think of it, and groaned aloud.

"Heaven help us!" he exclaimed; "we were mad to neglect the old sailor's
advice."

"That's what troubles me," rejoined Ben. "I tell 'ee what, master, if
you're more fortinate nor I am, and get ashore, give old saltwater your
fare. I pledged my thumb that, dead or alive, I'd pay the wager if I
lost; and I should like to be as good as my word."

"I will--I will," replied Wood hastily. "Was that thunder?" he faltered,
as a terrible clap was heard overhead.

"No; it's only a fresh gale," Ben returned: "hark