'Surely Captain Burke will transfer us all.' 'He'll not leave this vessel,' said she. 'It is not only that he has himself an uninsured venture in her, his obtaining further employment might depend upon his carrying the "Lady Emma" into safety. And if it can be done, it ought to,' she added, with a flat, peering, anxious look around the sea. Presently all was ready with the sail. The seamen raised a song, and, to a steady, shearing noise of ropes in sheaves, with a frequent chorus that swept like a shout of hope into the bitter, motionless atmosphere, the yard slowly ascended the jury-mast. It was like a huge lug-sail in form and fittings. Tauten it as they would, the breast hollowed and rounded with such blows as of a cudgel, and such claps as of musketry, that the boom sprang and buckled like a willow in a breeze; the sail was therefore lowered until wind came to steady it. It put a weariness as of rheumatism into the body to stand long, and when we saw the sail hoisted we went below. Mr. Owen was sitting beside the stove; he rose on our descending, and went on deck to look around, then, after a brief halt in the shelter of the companion-way returned, and sat him down at the table with the fingers of his right hand buried in his right bush of hair, his whole bearing abjectly disconsolate. Presently, looking at Mrs. Burke, he exclaimed: 'Is that single pole on the forecastle all the mast the captain means to navigate this ship with?' 'I do not know. My husband will be glad to tell you, I am sure,' answered Mrs. Burke. He gave a ghastly sarcastic smile, that instantly vanished in his former expression of sullen, resentful grief and dismay, showing, as a man might, who is under a sudden tragic surprise, which enrages him also. He looked down, shaking his head softly, and drumming, then started as if he would walk, but the jerk and tumble of the deck was too strong. I began to fear for the poor man's mind. Mrs. Burke told me the men would get dinner in the forecastle that day--there, or in the galley. They did not come to the cabin. The only man of them who arrived was the steward. He clothed the table, and made us a tolerable show of dinner. I beg to recall to your memory the many delicacies my father had laid in for me. It was about half-past one, I think, and about the time when the steward was done with the table, when the companion doors were opened, and the captain came below. The lamp burned brightly: indeed, it made most of the light we had. The skylight was, perhaps, half a foot thick with frozen snow; the companion doors were kept closed to exclude the cold; and little light came through the cabin windows, which the hull dipped with pendulum-like monotony into the thunder shadow of the swollen brine. Yet by the lamp-light we saw very clearly, and I observed that the captain's face was lighted up with some life and hope. I thought a sail was in sight, and started, expecting to hear him say so.