have heard the
utterance of his own name!

As none of these sounds had been sufficient to arouse him from his
torpor, he was likely to remain for some time longer unconscious of what
was occurring. The sailor swam in silence,--the cries of the child, now
more distant, were growing feebler and feebler; while little William--
Snowball's only companion upon the raft--was too much absorbed in the
scene and its issue to allow even a breath to escape him.

In this moment of agony,--intense to all the others of the _Catamaran's_
crew,--Snowball was sleeping as soundly and sweetly as if he had been
stretched along the bench of his caboose, and rocked to rest by the
undulations of a good ship going at easy sail.

Up to this time, William had not thought of awakening him; for, to say
the truth, the boy had not yet quite recovered his presence of mind.
The shock of consternation caused by the accident was still vibrating
through his brain; and his actions, in running aft, and springing up on
the cask, were half mechanical. There, enchained by the spectacle, and
waiting with intense anxiety for its _denouement_, he had not a thought
to give either to Snowball or his slumberings.

The silence continued only for a short period of time, though it may
have seemed long enough both to actors and spectator in that thrilling
drama. It was terminated by a cry of joyous import from the lips of
little William,--in short, a loud _hurrah_, evoked by his seeing the
swimmer come _en rapport_ with the child, raise her sinking form above
the surface, and holding it in one hand, strike out with the other in
the direction of the rail.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

SAVED!

"Brave Ben!--brave fellow! he has saved her! Hurrah!"

Whether it was the violent gestures that accompanied this ebullition of
feeling that caused the water-cask to lurch from under his feet,--or
whether it arose from his nervous system suddenly becoming relaxed after
such a spell of intense anxiety,--certain it is that the sailor-lad, as
he repeated the final "Hurrah!" lost his balance upon the task, and,
staggering over, he fell with all his weight upon the prostrate body of
the slumbering sea-cook.

The latter, in his sleep more sensible to touch than hearing, was at
length aroused.

"Gorramity!" cried he, suddenly starting to his knees, and endeavouring
to disembarrass himself of the weight of little William, still
scrambling upon his back. "Gorramity! What all d