"Something must be done for him at once," she said to herself, as she called to some of the men to come and help her. They picked the Captain up and carried him to his cabin, where they laid him gently on a cushioned locker. "What on earth'll--we do--now?" gasped the Captain. "I'm laid out--for the rest--of the voyage." "Oh no, father," said Mary, with a cheerfulness that she did not feel; "you'll be all right again before this gale is over, and we'll pull the _Bunker Hill_ through that all right. Won't we, men?" "Ay, ay, miss; that we will." "God bless you, my child," gasped the Captain; "and you too, men; but--I've got two--broken ribs here." They were all silent for a few minutes, while the cabin reeled from side to side, and the hollows of the vessel were full of groans from the straining of her timbers. "Father," said Mary at length, "don't worry about the bark, anyhow. You've got a good crew, and they'll take care of the bark." "Yes, sir, Cap'n Kent," said one of the men; "we're mortal sorry for to see you done up, sir, for you've treated us good, an' we knows it." "Thank you--men," said the Captain, and then he fainted. Mary sent the men on deck, and with the assistance of the cook put her father in his bunk, where he presently recovered his consciousness, but was still in great pain. Mary sat beside him in deep thought. "Dare I do it?" she said to herself. "I am so young; yet I am not inexperienced, and something must be done. Half the crew and the mates down with berri-berri, and the Captain disabled; the bark must be-- I'll do it." "What are you--thinking about, Mary?" asked her father. "This. We must make for the nearest port that you may have proper medical attention, father, and we must do it the minute the gale moderates enough to let us clap more cloth on the bark. The barometer is rising, and the wind has shifted four points. The gale will break by morning. We are on the outside edge of it, and we'll soon be out of it. Now, father, put me in command of the bark, and I'll take her into New York." "But will the crew--obey you?" "Ask them." Mary went on deck and asked the men, except the helmsman, to come to the cabin. "Men," she said, "the Captain is hurt, the mates and half the crew are sick. The bark ought to go to the nearest port. I can take her there. Will you help me? What do you say?" "That you're right, miss," said one of the men. "And we'll take our orders from you same as from the Cap'n. Won't we, lads?" "Yes, yes!" "Now, father," said Mary. "I turn over--the command--to you, dear," said the Captain. The next day at noon the gale had moderated to a fresh breeze, and though a heavy sea was running, the clouds had broken and the sun was peeping through. Mary went on deck with the sextant to get the ship's latitude. She poised herself on her graceful limbs, and handled the instrument like a veteran. Presently she got the sun's highest altitude. "Make eight bells!" she cried.