Old Harry's story was this: He was the son of a clergyman in Virginia, and when quite young had run away to sea. He fell into bad habits which prevented his rising in his profession, and for years he had been drifting about, sometimes in the navy, and again in merchant vessels. Though he had occasionally returned to his friends, his appetite for strong drink had always overcome his good resolutions, and he had long ago been given up as a hopeless case. He had a brother in Norfolk, well to do, who, after several unsuccessful efforts of late years to find traces of Harry, had discovered his last voyage. Upon the arrival of the ship at Baltimore he had sent him a sum of money to defray his expenses home, and offered to give him a shelter and support him for the rest of his days. Old Harry was glad enough to accept this offer, for he was now quite broken down in health, and in his sober hours at sea had many anxious thoughts as to what would become of him in the future. But he could not resist the inclination for another good drink before he started, and his next sensible moment found him removed from the den in Baltimore, where he had been carousing, to the forecastle, out of sight of land, and with only fifteen cents in his pocket. These he offered to the steward for a glass of whiskey, with most imploring tones, but failed to obtain it. He had a touch of _delirium tremens_, and after getting rid of the devils who, he fancied, were tormenting him, he was in a most thoughtful and penitent mood. A twenty-two days' passage brought the ship into the English Channel. Passing through the Straits of Dover into the North Sea, the wind hauled to the northward and increased to a fresh gale. The topsails were double-reefed, and the ship slowly forged ahead, though making some leeway, causing the captain to feel anxious about the lee shore, which was in sight not far distant.