“Let us pray!” cried a voice from the forward part of the boat, and, mingled with the howling of the storm, the hissing of the brine as it rushed savagely past the wreck, and the rattling of the frozen rigging, there rose upon the midnight air one of those stern, strong, abject yet self-assertive prayers that the Puritans were wont to address to their vindictive and implacable Deity; confessing their own enormity of sin, yet beseeching Him to forego his rightful vengeance and to lift his scourge from their backs because his Son had already borne the penalty of their sins, and suffered to appease the Father’s annihilating wrath. The prayer was strong and eloquent after its own rugged fashion, and as the hearers breathed “A-men” they felt that their chances were better than before, and were not surprised when, as morning broke, the low line of Cape Cod lay before them, and the sail, partially blown from the gaskets, filled just enough to carry them gently upon the shallow beach. “We are saved!” exclaimed Harwood, staggering to his feet and clinging to the mast. “Come, men, tumble over and wade ashore! We can be no wetter than we are.” As he spoke he stepped over the gunwale into water almost up to his middle and turned shoreward, but Garrett cried to him,-- “Hold, man, if you have a heart of flesh and not of stone! Take my child out of my arms and carry her ashore, for I am utterly spent. I shall never reach that land.” “Give her to me, then, some of you,” replied Harwood grudgingly. “I know not if I can hold her in my numbed arms, but I’ll try it, though she never should have been here.” “Tut! Prut! Master Harwood!” retorted Joseph Pierce, Garrett’s foreman. “None but a sour temper would flout the master with his misfortunes just now! I’d carry little mistress myself and spare you the trouble, but my feet are froze fast into the wash at the bottom of the boat.” “And so are mine!” exclaimed another, making ineffectual efforts to release himself from his icy bonds. “And I know not if I have feet or not,” added Garrett drowsily. “But I beseech you, men, to care for my little maid.” “Be sure we will, master,” replied Pierce cheerily. “Here, Brastow, give me that hatchet to cut away the ice from my feet; but no, first help Mistress Christian over the side. Now, then, Harwood, take her, and God’s blessing if you get her safe ashore. Have you a hold? Put your arms round his neck, there’s a brave maid. Now hold fast.”