"That's true, mate; you speak more like a scholar than a sailor. Shake hands." "I learned a great deal from the friend of whom I have spoken," said Joshua, grasping Rough-and-Ready's hand. "What is that ahead of us?" A dark cloud. Impossible to see whether it belonged to earth, or air, or water. A moment after he uttered the words, the man who was keeping the look-out cried that there was land ahead. Joshua hastily gave some orders, and was making his way to the saloon to arouse the captain, when he was almost thrown off his legs by a terrible shock. Involuntarily he threw his arms around Minnie, who was clinging to the rope. She held him fast for a moment, and he cried,-- "Who is this?" "It is me," she said; "cling to me." "Don't stir," he whispered rapidly, filled with a wild amazement at the familiar tones of Minnie's voice; "if it were not that I know I am not dreaming, I could believe a spirit spoke, and not a woman. But keep you here; do not move for your life." The next instant all was confusion, and cries and lamentations filled the air. Captain Liddle was on deck barefooted, and all the passengers were there in their nightdresses, clinging to ropes and spars, praying and crying and wringing their hands. Great seas washed over the ship, drowning the cries for a brief time; the night was so dark that their true situation could not be discovered, and imagination added to their terrors and magnified them. The captain could do literally nothing; for the ship appeared to have been lifted on to the rocks, and kept bumping against them in its endeavors to get free. And yet there was sea all around them. Some of the passengers had sought shelter under the lee of the cuddy, among them the captain's wife, Mr. and Mrs. Pigeon and Little Emma, and Steven and Rachel Homebush. Many times during the night was the voice of Stephen Homebush heard, calling upon the Lord to save _him_; while his sister Rachel, braver than he, stood by his side, with a stern set face, in silence. The cheery laugh of Mrs. Pigeon was stilled, but she was not so overcome by terror as not to be a comfort to her husband and child; during the dark night those three clung together and comforted each other as well as they were able; while the captain, making his way from one group to another, bade them not lose heart; for the ship seemed to be keeping together, and when daylight came their condition might be found to be less desperate than it appeared. "Besides," he whispered to the male passengers, "we have three or four rascals among the sailors, and for the sake of the women we must keep ourselves cool and self-possessed." To his wife he said simply,-- "Well, Bessie, this is a bad job. I ought not to have allowed you to come with me." "I would sooner be here with you, John," she said, kissing him, "than I would be at home in safety." "Brave little heart," he whispered to himself as he walked away from her. "Yet I could bear it better if I were alone."