The captain gave orders to clear away the wreck, and get what little sail they could patch up, upon her, for the purpose of working her into the nearest port. The mate was not inclined to further the order, evidently laboring under the strong presentiment that she was to be their coffin. He advised that it was fruitless to stick by her any longer, or hazard an attempt to reach a port with her, in such a leaky and disabled condition. “If we don't abandon her, Skipper,” said he, “she'll abandon us. We'd better make signal for the first vessel, and bid the old coffin good-by.” The captain was more determined in his resolution, and instead of being influenced by the mate's fears, continued his order, and the men went to work with a cheerful willingness. None seemed more anxious to lend a ready hand than Manuel, for in addition to is duties as steward, he had worked at sail-making, and both worked at and directed the repairing of the sails. Those acquainted with maritime affairs can readily appreciate the amount of labor necessary to provide a mess with the means at hand that we have before described. And yet he did it to the satisfaction of all, and manifested a restless anxiety lest he should not make everybody comfortable, and particularly his little pet boy, Tommy. “We'll get a good observation at meridian, and then we shall shape our course for Charleston, South Carolina. We'll be more likely to reach it than any other southern port,” said the captain to his mate. “That steward, Manuel, is worth his weight in gold. If we have to abandon the old craft, I'll take him home; the owners respect him just as much as a white man; his politeness and affability could not but command such esteem, with a man that a'n't a fool. I never believed in making equals of negroes, but if Manuel was to be classed with niggers for all the nigger blood that's in him, seven-tenths of the inhabitants of the earth would go with him. I never saw such an attachment between brothers, as exists between him and Tommy. I verily believe that one couldn't go to sleep without the other. I should think they were brothers, if the lad wasn't English, and Manuel a Portuguese. But Manuel is as much an Englishman at heart as the lad, and has sailed so long under the flag that he seems to have a reverence for the old jack when he sees the bunting go up. He likes to tell that story about the Patagonians chasing him. I have overheard him several times, as much amused in his own recital as if he was listening to the quaint jokes of an old tar. But he swears the Patagonians will never catch him on their shores again, for he says he doesn't believe in making 'drum-head of man-skin,'” said the Captain, evidently with the intention of affecting the mate's feelings, and drawing his mind from its dark forebodings.