“D’ye see, Mr. Fayerweather, the gale was sich a one as not many of us had often been out in afore; and at one time when it blew so strong as to threaten to capsize the vessel, one of the ropes got loose, and it was needful for somebody to go aloft and make it fast without loss of time, or the vessel would have gone to pot in less than no time. Not a lubber of a sailor would stir, but they all stood staring at each other like so many sculpens. Brayton’s stout-hearted enough, but he’s lame, and Stimpson here and I are both old and clumsy”—Captain Bob Stimpson fetched a grunt—“but we were going to try what our old carcases could do, when them ’ere two lads pushed afore us, and were up the shrouds in a twinkling and fastened the rope. The vessel was saved, but she was so much strained that we were obliged to put back for repairs, and for Brayton to get some better hands. So, now we’ll shake hands and bid ye good-night.” Mr. Fayerweather tried hard to prevail on the two sea-worthies to stay and eat supper; but Captain Seaward excused himself, alleging that his “old woman would be skeared about them;” his friend, Stimpson, adding— “And my daughter, Judy, will cry herself to pieces, if she doesn’t see her sir to-night.” The noise below now aroused Madam Fayerweather, who called out between sleeping and waking: “What’s the matter, Amy?—Mr. Fayerweather?” Then thoroughly awake, she exclaimed— “Where are they all gone?” and rising from the bed, said in a louder tone—“Vi’let, what upon earth is the matter?” Vi’let snored out, “It’s that ’ere Scip; he’s the torment and plague of my life—he’s always making a hullagaloo.” Here the whole party entered the chamber. What was madam’s surprise at seeing George! When she discovered that he had been out in all the storm, she complained loudly of having been kept in ignorance of his danger. “As if I was not his mother, and had not a right to know every thing about him; but it’s the way you always do, Mr. Fayerweather, and I do not take it kindly of you at all. I should have had a fit had I known that he was on the water all this time.” And madam was near falling into one at the idea of it; but the fear that her son might be half-starved, and not be able to get any thing to eat if she should take up the time in having hysterics, made her think better of it; so she desired Vi’let to get a good supper and make George some white wine-whey. Vi’let, punching Peter down stairs before her, and followed by her satellite Flora, made her descent, grumbling and muttering at having _vittles_ to get at that time o’ night. They had an excellent supper, during which George related all the wonders which he and Dick had seen and performed on that memorable day—and if he felt somewhat lifted up, might he not be pardoned? After supper Mr. Wendell took his leave, and the family sought repose; though not before offering up fervent thanks for George’s preservation.