At length the passengers were disposed of; a few cloaks and pea-jackets were thrown in to cover the women; the ship’s compass was placed in one of the boats; a crew of seamen were told off, and seized the oars; the mate took the command; strict injunctions were given for the boats to keep together; and they shoved off into that heaving sea. It was now broad daylight, and the rain falling heavily. “Thank God, sir,” said the captain, with a sigh of relief, “we’ve disposed of the passengers. The wind’s falling now, with this wet, and they’ll make the land in three or four hours. I trust in Providence every hair of their heads will be saved; and we’ve nothing to think of but ourselves.” “There’s a dozen of us left,” said Frank, looking round on the dripping group, who were clinging to the different parts of the wreck, consisting of one or two subordinate officers, the boatswain, and a few old, weather-beaten seamen; “that boat will hold us all, if she will swim; but she’s rather a cockle-shell for such a sea as this,” he observed, pointing to a small, shallow skiff that hung at the stern, and which had not yet been lowered. “It’s our best chance,” said the captain, looking very grave, as another rolling sea made the wreck heave and quiver and strain, as if she must go to pieces; “but she’ll never hold us all. I’ll stand by the ship to the last; and you two gentlemen, to whose coolness, under Providence, the passengers owe their lives, will bear witness I did my duty. God bless you! Lower away, men; cheerily, oh!” So the boat was lowered, and as she touched the water she filled and sank, and appeared again, bottom uppermost, some fifty yards away; and so the last chance of escape was cut off. The little party looked at each other in blank dismay; even Frank’s bold heart tightened itself for an instant in the pressure of despair. Only the gruff boatswain found words to say, “That bit plug, that didn’t ought to have been neglected, ’s worth exactly twelve men’s lives. This here’s a stopper over all, blessed if it ain’t.” There was nothing to be done now but to wait manfully for death. Poor Charlie was already half-dead with cold; but Frank took off his own pea-jacket and wrapped it round the lad, and lashed him to the foremast; for though the weather had moderated considerably, a sea came every now and then driving over the deck, and carrying everything before it. The wreck was by this time filling fast, and sinking gradually: already she had settled by the stern, and only her bows and a part of the forecastle remained above water. On this the sufferers were congregated, and few words did they interchange, for consolation or hope there was none in this world. Their powder was exhausted--true, there was plenty below, in the powder-magazine, but that was long ago swamped, so that their very cries for help must be silenced--that iron voice, their sole chance of rescue, must be dumb. The fog, too, began to clear away, and a