“No, sah; dey don’ put um ’bout. Dey sailin’ away, an’ nebber know nuffin. Ole fool Nim nebber tell ’em good-by. Come off an’ keep on sayin’ nuffin at all to nobody.” “You don’t mean to say, Nimbus, that you left without giving any alarm! without waking my father or Wolfe!” “Yes, sah,” answered the black man in a most crestfallen tone. “Didn’t wake nobody. Didn’t t’ink ob nuffin scusin’ how to sabe young cap’n. Jump quick in boat, cut um ’drif, an’ come. Bimeby catch um, pull um in. Here he is! Here we is!” “Yes, that’s certain enough, ‘here we is,’ and how we’re going to get out of this scrape it would puzzle a sea lawyer to tell. I suppose you did the best thing you could think of. If you’d only given an alarm, though! Now, with the wheel lashed, the brig may sail on for hours, always getting farther and farther away from us, before either of them wakes up. Well, we’re not dead yet, and while there’s life there’s hope. I’m very grateful to you, at any rate, for coming to me so quickly. Now, perhaps you can do me another good turn by telling me how to keep from freezing to death in these wet clothes.” Yes, indeed, Nimbus could do that, and in a minute more Breeze had stripped off his soaked garments, slipped into his oil-skin jacket and trousers, which had fortunately been left in the dory, and was rapidly getting warm by hard work at the oars. At the same time Nimbus, with powerful hands, was wringing the wet clothing as dry as though it were in a centrifugal steam-wringer. Of course the things were still damp and cold when Breeze again put them on; but, with his oil-skins drawn over them to keep out the wind, and still keeping up his exercise with the oars, he was soon in a glow. As he rowed he instinctively kept the dory headed on the same course the brig had taken, by holding her broadside to the wind, which still blew steadily from the southward. At last the day broke, gray and cheerless, but free from fog. Each time the boat was lifted on a wave its occupants scanned the ever-widening horizon eagerly, in the hope of sighting some vessel. At last the day had fully come, and they knew the full extent of their disappointment. Their frail craft was the only object floating on the whole weary expanse of tumbling waters. For a long time they sat in silence. Neither had any words of comfort to offer the other. Finally Nimbus said, mournfully, “Who you s’pose cookin’ on de brig for de cap’n, now ole Nim done gone?” “I don’t know,” answered Breeze, rousing up from his sorrowful reflections, and making a brave effort to throw off the gloomy thoughts that were taking possession of him, “but I guess they’ll manage to make out somehow. I know I could in their place.” “Dey habin’ all de grub, an’ no cook in de camboose. We habin’ de cook, but no grub an’ no camboose,” continued Nimbus, following up the train of thoughts suggested by his hunger.