"My vessel, I say! My papers! All that I have is in the vessel. I must go aboard, do you hear? I must go aboard. How could I forget?" The other skipper and Tönnes looked at each other. Captain Spang wrung his hands and stamped on the deck, his eyes fixed on his sinking vessel. She was still afloat; what did he care for the gale and the heavy sea? He belonged to the old school of skippers; he was bound to his vessel by ties longer than any life-line, heavier than any hawser: he had left his ship in a bewildered state, and had taken nothing with him that might serve to prove what he possessed and how long he had possessed it. His good old vessel was still floating on the water. He must, he would go there; if nobody would go with him, he would go alone. All remonstrances were in vain. Tönnes pressed the other skipper's hand. "There is nothing else to be done. I know him," said he. "So do I," was the answer. Captain Spang and his mate were again in the boat. As they were on the point of starting, a loud whine and violent barking sounded from the deck, and Prussian showed his one eye over the railing. "Stay where you are!" cried Tönnes. "We shall be back soon." But the dog did not understand him. Perhaps he had his doubts; no one can say. He sprang overboard; Tönnes seized him by the ear, and hauled him into the boat. And then the two men and the dog ventured back to the abandoned vessel. This time the old man climbed on board without assistance. Prussian whined in the boat. "Throw that dog up to me!" cried the master. Tönnes did so. "Shall I come up and help you?" he called out. "No, I can find my own way." "But hurry, captain! do you understand?" said Tönnes, who anxiously noticed that the motions of the vessel were becoming more and more dangerous, while he needed all his strength to keep the boat clear of the wreck. An answer came from the bark, but he could not catch it. In this moment Tönnes recalled the day when he rowed the captain out on the bay to the brig. His next thought was of Nanna. Oh, if she knew where they were! And at this thought the mate's breast was filled with conflicting emotions. The dear blessed girl! Oh, if her father would only come! "Captain!" cried Tönnes; "Captain Spang! for God's sake, come! Leave those papers alone. The vessel is sinking. We may at any moment--" He paused. The captain stood at the stern-sheets. At his side was Prussian, squinting down into the boat. There was an entirely strange expression in Andreas Spang's face; a double expression--one moment hard and defiant, the next almost solemn. The sou'wester had fallen from his old head. His scanty hairs fluttered in the wind. He held in his hand a parcel of papers and a coil of rope. He pointed toward the brig.