“Because it was the most seaworthy boat of the two, and it was manned by a more knowing crew, and finally, because they had sense enough to sail for the open sea instead of making for that fatal rock-bound coast upon which your boat was wrecked.” “Oh, Heaven grant they may have been saved!” fervently exclaimed Britomarte. “Oh, the poor ould ship! Oh, me poor ould daddy! Oh, me darlint Fore Top Tom! Are yez all lost intirely? Drowned in the dape say? Oh, me fine ship! Oh, me good daddy! Oh, me gay Tom! Ow-oo! Ow-oo! Ow-oo!” cried Judith, sitting down upon the deck, flinging her apron over her head, rocking herself to and fro, and howling dismally. And as she was howling, not only from an acute feeling of grief, but also from a profound sense of propriety, there was not the least use of any one’s attempting to console her. Britomarte laid her hand gently upon the woman’s head, and kept it there a moment as a tacit assurance of sympathy, and then passed on. To get into the cabin she was obliged first to climb up the leaning deck, and then go round to the companion ladder and climb down. Justin helped her as much as she would allow him to do. Looking around upon the empty cabin and the vacant staterooms, lately the home of herself and her fellow-voyagers, she was almost overwhelmed by the realization of the awful calamity that had befallen them. She wondered why it was that she could not weep! but she really could not! the feeling of awe overpowered the feeling of grief, and, besides, the pressure of necessity was upon her—the necessity of immediate action. She went into the stateroom and changed all her clothing, and from her good stock of wearing apparel, which she found in excellent preservation, she selected two more changes; then she took her sewing materials—needles, thread, scissors and thimble, and her little toilet service—combs, brushes, soap and towels, and she rolled all these articles up together in a compact little parcel, and tied it up with pocket handkerchiefs. And while doing this, she experienced a feeling of compunction for taking off anything for her own individual comfort only, when so much needed to be carried off for the general good. But then, again, she reflected that the common decencies of life, no less than her own inclination, made it absolutely necessary that she should provide herself with the means of personal neatness and cleanliness. By the time she had made up her little parcel, Judith, who had finished her performance on deck, and so satisfied her sense of what was expected from her, came stumbling down the companion ladder. And Judith’s cat and kittens, recognizing their mistress, jumped out of the spare stateroom and ran up to her, purring and lifting their little tails, and rubbing their sides against her feet. But Judith made short work with them all.