ll the while."

"Couldn't you do anything?" we both exclaimed, our interest now fully
awakened; "did you try to help them?"

"Oh yes, sir," George answered, and I could see the tears standing in
his eyes; "God be praised, we didn't see 'em go down without doing what
we could for them; and I'm glad to think of it, though my life didn't
seem worth the having for many a long day afterward."

"Oh, why?" asked Aleck, eagerly; and I, in spite of our being upon terms
of not speaking, caught myself whispering to him, "Don't you
know?--Ralph's father was drowned."

But George went on, with his eyes fixed on the water, as if the great
sea which had swallowed up his dead were a book, and he were reading
from it.

"His father"--and with a turn of the head he indicated Ralph--"was with
me; he was but four-and-twenty, and as handsome as handsome; a young
fellow such as there was not many to be seen like him; and he was a good
son--a good son to his mother and to me--and a child of God, too, Heaven
be praised! 'Father,' says he, 'we must try to save them;' and, with the
sound of those poor creatures' cries ringing in my ears, I dared not say
no, though the odds were fearful against us, and I was careful over
_him_, though I'd not have minded for myself. Well, sir, two others
joined us, and we succeeded in getting off; but just before we reached
the sinking vessel, a heavy sea struck us, and in a moment we were all
struggling in the water. I thought I heard Ralph--_he_ was Ralph too--I
thought I heard him just say, 'God have mercy on my poor Betsey!'--she
as you know, Master Willie--and then I knew nothing until I woke up in
a room where some kind people were rubbing me with hot flannels, and
offering me hot stuff to drink. So soon as I could speak, 'Where's
Ralph?' I says, looking round for him; and then I saw in their faces how
it was; and they came round me, treating me quite tenderly like a child,
though they were rough sailors. And one of 'em, a God-fearing man, who
had spoken a bit to us many a time when we'd no parson, was put forward
by them, and he comes and whispers to me, 'You'll see him again, George,
when the sea shall give up its dead. You'll meet before the throne of
God and of the Lamb.' Well, sir, I was but a poor frail mortal, and my
senses left me again, and I was long of coming round. But ever since
then, as I look at the wide water, I seem to hear a voice saying, the
sea shall give up its dead, and we'll meet