s de winds or de waves, so long as
de Lord's got ye in his arms, holdin' ye up?--as he's got dat boy ob
your'n. Oh, Mas'r Dick! jes' humble yerself 'fore de Lord, right off.
What's de use ob stribin' to fight him?--what's de use? 'Tain't no
use!--ye knows it dis minnit!--ye knows it all ober! Call on de Lord
yerself, Mas'r Dick!--call on de Lord 'fore it's too late!"

"I cannot, I cannot!" groaned Trafford, dropping down on the sand by
his old nurse; "I don't know him, and he will not hear me. Oh, my boy,
my boy!"

He gave up then. Hagar knew by the way he sank back upon the sand, all
the wildness and fierceness gone out of his face, and the crushed,
broken-hearted manner in which his head drooped, that he had given up
the boy. She gathered his head on her knee, as she had often done when
he was a youth, and stroked it tenderly, saying, as her tears
dropped,--

"Poor chile, poor honey! Hagar's sorry fur ye. It's a dreadful t'ing
not ter know de Lord; ain't it, chile? Can't do nuffin widout him,
somehow. But Hagar hopes ye'll find him; she hopes ye'll find him dis
berry night. 'Pears like he ain't fur off dis awful night; an', O Lord
Jesus!"--folding her hands reverently, and looking toward the sea as
if she saw her Redeemer walking there,--"come an' bress dis poor
broken heart dat can't find ye. It's jes' waitin' fur de bressin',
an' 'pears like 'twould faint ter def ef ye didn't come. Come, Lord,
come."

The night wore slowly on. The "Gull" began to break in pieces and
float ashore. The fishermen had enough to do to snatch the boxes and
bales which the sea hurled up. As yet, none of the "Gull's" more
precious freight of life had made its way through the sea to the
shore. Dirk was watching keenly for it. A half-dozen draggled, fearful
women had stolen down from their houses, and were standing by the
fire, whispering and talking in undertones, with many glances of pity
at the figure lying prone on the sand with its head in the old black
woman's lap.

"Alack!" said Dirk, with a great sigh, "it wur a fine lad. I never
knowed kinder nor better. Ye ken all say that, women, an' this be the
sorriest night I ever knowed, 'cept when my little gal died. He wur
good to my little gal, the lad wur, an' he giv' me a bit o' flower to
put on the sand where she be sleepin', an' it growed an' growed an'
blossomed, an' the blossom wur like a great blue eye,--like my little
gal's eye,--an' many's the night after fishin' I'