e bark, before his confused faculties
enabled him to understand the means employed for his rescue.

Maso took a hasty turn with the rope, and, stooping forward, favored by a
roll of the vessel, he drew the Baron de Willading upon deck. Watching his
time, he repeated the experiment, always with admirable coolness and
dexterity, placing Sigismund also in safety. The former was immediately
dragged senseless to the centre of the bark, where he received those
attentions that had just been eagerly offered to the Signior Grimaldi, and
with the same happy results. But Sigismund motioned all away from himself,
knowing that their cares were needed elsewhere. He staggered forward a
few paces, and then, yielding to a complete exhaustion of his power, he
fell at full length on the wet planks. He long lay panting, speechless,
and unable to move, with a sense of death on his frame.

"Nettuno! gallant, gallant Nettuno!"--shouted the indefatigable Maso,
still at his post on the gangway, whence he cast his rope with unchanging
perseverance. The fitful winds, which had already played so many fierce
antics that eventful night, sensibly lulled, and, giving one or two sighs,
as if regretting that they were about to be curbed again by that almighty
Master, from whose benevolent hands they had so furtively escaped, as
suddenly ceased blowing. The yards creaked, swinging loosely, above the
crowded deck, and the dull washing of water filled the ear. To these
diminished sounds were to be added the barking of the dog, who was still
abroad in the darkness, and a struggling noise like the broken and
smothered attempts of human voices. Although the time appeared an age to
all who awaited the result, scarcely five minutes had elapsed since the
accident occurred and the hurricane had reached them. There was still
hope, therefore, for those who yet remained in the water. Maso felt the
eagerness of one who had already been successful beyond his hopes, and, in
his desire to catch some guiding signal, he leaned forward, till the
rolling lake washed into his face.

"Ha! gallant--gallant Nettuno!"

Men certainly spoke, and that near him. But the sounds resembled words
uttered beneath a cover. The wind whistled, too, though but for a moment,
and then it seemed to sail upward into the dark vault of the heavens.
Nettuno barked audibly, and his master answered with another shout, for
the sympathy of man in his kind is inextinguishable.

"My brave, my noble N