r,
by this time, it was dim twilight; the wind was blowing great guns, the
clouds were full of dark wrath, and the stormy billows rose higher and
higher. There was no time to spare, and it would be as much as they
could do to provide for their own safety. The tide was already bumping
them against the cliff at the place where, just in time, they had
rescued Kenrick, and, in order to get themselves fairly off, Walter,
forgetting for a moment, pushed out his oar and pressed against the
cliff. The damaged oar was weak enough already, and instantly Walter
saw that his vigorous shove had weakened and displaced the old splicing
of the blade. Charlie too observed it, but neither of them spoke a
word; on the contrary, the little boy was at his place, oar in rowlock,
and immediately smote lightly and in good time the surface of the water,
splashed it into white foam, and pulled with gallant strokes.

They made but little way; the waves pitched them so high and dropped
them with such a heavy fall between their rolling troughs, that rowing
became almost impossible, and the miserable old boat shipped quantities
of water. At last, after a stronger pull than usual, Walter's oar
creaked, snapped, and gave way, flinging him on his back. The loosened
twine with which it had been spliced was half rotten with age; it broke
in several places, the oar blade fell off and floated away, and Walter
was left holding in both hands a broken and futile stump.

"My God, it is all over with us!" was the wild cry that the sudden and
awful misfortune wrung from his lips; while Charlie, shipping his now
useless oar, clung round his brother's neck and cried aloud. The three
boys--one of them faint, exhausted, and speechless--were in an unsafe
and oarless boat on the open tempestuous sea, weltering hopelessly at
the cruel mercy of winds and waves; a current was sweeping them they
knew not whither, and the wind, howling like a hurricane, was driving
them farther and farther away from land.

"O Walter, I can't die, I can't die yet; and not out on this black sea,
away from every one."

"From every one but God, Charlie; and I am with you. Cheer up, little
brother, God will not desert us."

"O Walter, pray to God for you and me and Kenrick | pray to Him for
life."

"We will both pray, Charlie;" and folding his arms round him, for now
that the rowing was over and there was nothing left to do, the little
boy was frightened at the increasing gloom,