Charlie and Uncle Isaac made the coffins for the two who died, and Captain Rhines and John dug their graves. On the eastern side of the cove a perpendicular cliff rose abruptly from the soil, with a little strip of green turf between it and the beach. Here they were buried. The white man had the name of “J. Watts” tattooed on his right arm; the name of the black was afterwards ascertained to be John Davis, and Charlie cut the names into the cliff—a most enduring memorial. CHAPTER III. A GLAD SURPRISE. IN the course of three hours, it was evident that both of the rescued persons were reviving fast. Though unable to speak, they swallowed eagerly all that Captain Rhines thought proper to give; the expression returned to their eyes and features, and their limbs twitched with convulsive starts. “Charlie,” said the captain, “I’ll take these people home in the schooner.” “Leave them here, we can take care of them; and leave the schooner too. I’ll make a new mast and windlass for her.” “It is too much for Mary, with a young child,—two invalids to take care of.” “No, it ain’t, father; they will be all right, as soon as it will do to let them eat and drink.” “I’ll take the young man, at any rate, and you may have the boy.” They wrapped him in a blanket, and he was so emaciated that Charlie took him in his arms as though he had been an infant, and put him into the whale boat. “Wife,” said the captain, the next morning, as he sat watching his charge, as he lay sleeping, after having eaten more than he had allowed him at one time before, “do you know that since this young man has come to himself a bit he looks very natural to me. I’ve seen him, or some of his folks, before.” “It wouldn’t be at all strange if you had, for you have been a traveller all your life.” “It beats all how familiar his features look; and the more I look at him, the more the likeness grows upon me. He’s the very image of somebody I’ve known and loved right well, but to save me, I can’t tell who. He’ll be strong enough to talk when he wakes, and I’ll know who he is, and all about it. Only see, Mary, how the color has come into his lips! they are not drawn apart as they were. See how his eyeballs are filled out, and his fingers; and his nose is not so sharp as it was. He’s doing first rate.” As the captain had predicted, the young man, who had been within a hair’s breadth of eternity, awoke a few minutes before noon, extremely weak, but free from stupor, and in partial possession of his faculties, and inquired where he was. “You are among friends, young man, and safe; make yourself easy. Where are you from?” “Salem.” “Salem! Was you born and brought up in Salem?” “Yes, sir.” “What is your name?” “Brown, sir.” “What is your father’s business?” “He was a shipmaster, but he is not living.” “Was his name Arthur?” cried the captain, more eagerly, his face flushing, and then becoming very pale. “Yes, sir.”