"Nay, all hope is not gone; we may succeed in reaching land, or some ship may see us and pick us up. But all private grief must give way now for the general good. There are not too many faithful men on board; the lives of others depend on them. If they lose heart, and yield to the selfishness of their grief, we are lost." Joshua jumped to his feet and wiped his tears. "They are not unmanly tears, my lady," he said bravely; "I can justify them to you when there is no pressing work to do. Thank you for calling me to my duty." She smiled brightly on him and shook hands with him. When he got on deck, the captain was giving orders to lower the jolly-boat; but as the boat was being lowered, the broken water caught her and splintered her to pieces. The sailors and passengers looked with dismay at the fragments of the boat drifting away and dashing against the jagged rocks. "What next?" they all thought. "Try the long-boat, men," cried the captain. And in accordance with his instructions, the long-boat--the only one left--was launched over the vessel's side; but as she hung in the tackle a huge wave dashed up and filled her. It was imperative that the water should be bailed out of her. "Who will do it?" asked the captain, loath to give an order in which there was almost certain death. Joshua was about to start forward, when Minnie's hand upon his arm restrained him. Before he could shake off the grasp, the first mate, crying, "I'm a single man; I've no wife and children waiting for me at home!" jumped into the boat up to his waist in water, and began to bail it out. But he had not bailed out a dozen gallons when the stern-post was jerked out of the boat, which was left hanging in the tackle. The shouts of the men and the screams of the women apprised him of his danger; and as he looked about to see how he could remedy the disaster, the fore-tackle got adrift, and the boat was battling with cruel rocks and water. The force of the current was too powerful for her. The captain threw out lines to the unfortunate man, but he could not catch them. But if he had, he would have been bruised to death by the sharp rocks. The moment before he went down, he waved a good-by to those on board. A long silence followed. The women looked anxiously at the captain, but saw no hope in his face. Then with a gesture to all to follow him, he went down to the saloon, and there read prayers, and commended them to God. He was not what is understood as a religious man; but knowing the danger in which they stood, he conceived this to be a duty. That done, he said, "Men and passengers, we have one chance left, and only one. Out of our masts and spars we can make a raft sufficiently large to hold all of us. Then we may be able to reach some friendly land. To stay on board and wait, and not work, is certain death. Even as it is, a raft will take us some days to make, and the ship may break to pieces before it is done. But we must trust to God for that. What we've got