umb to the
laws of Nature,--the laws of gravitation,--or rather of specific
gravity,--and sink below the surface,--down, down into the fathomless
and unknown abysm of the ocean. Along with them, sharing their sad
fate, Lilly Lalee,--that pretty, uncomplaining child, the innocent
victim of an ill-starred destiny, must disappear forever from a world of
which she had as yet seen so little, and that little of the least
favourable kind.

Throughout the whole affair the girl had shown but slight signs of the
terrible affright that, under the circumstances, might have been
expected. Born in a land and brought up among a people where human life
was lightly and precariously held, she had been often accustomed to the
spectacle of death,--which to some extent robs it of its terrors. At
all events, they who are thus used appear to meet it with a more stoical
indifference.

It would be a mistake to suppose that the girl appeared indifferent.
Nothing of the sort. She exhibited apprehension,--fear sufficient; but
whether her mind was overwhelmed by the extreme peril of the situation,
or that she was still ignorant of its being extreme, certain it is that
her behaviour, from beginning to end, was characterised by a calmness
that seemed supernatural, or at all events superhuman. Perhaps she was
sustained by the confidence she had in the brace of brave protectors
swimming alongside of her,--both of whom, even in that extreme hour,
carefully refrained from communicating to her the belief which they
themselves in all fulness entertained,--that their lives were fast
approaching to a termination.

The minds of both were fully imbued with this conviction, though not in
the same degree of fulness. If possible, the white man felt more
certain of the proximity of his end than did the negro. It is not easy
to tell why it was so. The reason may, perhaps, be found in the fact,
that the latter had been so often on the edge of the other world, had so
often escaped entering it, that, despite the impossibility of escaping
from his present peril,--to all appearance absolute,--there still
lingered in his breast some remnant of hopefulness.

Not so with the sailor. From the bosom of Ben Brace every vestige of
hope had vanished. He looked upon life as no longer possible. Once or
twice the thought had actually entered his mind to put an end to the
struggle, and, along with it, the agony of that terrible hour, by
suspending the action of his