"We were coming home from Liverpool once, and went out of the North Channel; but then the wind came from the northward and blew a living gale. This brought the Irish coast on our lee, and the 'old man' carried sail pretty hard to claw off. Our fore-topsail blew all to ribbons, and while we were up bending another, a boy fell off the lee yard arm. Only the man next to him noticed him, and it was blowing so hard he could not make any one hear to windward. The mate, who was on deck, saw it, and beckoned to me to come down. (I was third mate of her). When I got on deck, he told me what had happened, and he had just thrown a rope which the boy had got hold of; for the ship of course was only just drifting. We tried to haul him in, but when he was nearly up, he slipped his hold and fell into the water. He floated aft, and caught hold of the main chain-plates; and just as I was going to get a rope round him the old man yelled out to me: 'Go up on that fore-topsail yard.'" "'There's a boy overboard, sir,'" said I. "'I don't care,' said he; 'let him help himself. If we don't get that fore-topsail bent we'll all be lost.'" "While I stopped for this talk, a sea had washed the boy away, so I went up aloft. "The sailors were so frightened at the force of the gale and flapping of the remnant of the old sail that they had all laid in off the yard, and wouldn't go out again. The old man came up and kicked them, and jumped on their heads as they stood in the rigging and top, but they wouldn't stir, and at last the second mate and I crawled out on the weather yard arm, and he lashed me on to the yard with a gasket, and then I cut away the old sail and hauled out the head of the new one, for the men came out when they found some one to take the weather earing. "Old Johnson is dead now. They called him one of the smartest men that sailed out of New York, and he could always command his own wages, but I guess old Jimmy Squarefoot is putting him over the road now for--four bells! you don't say an hour's gone a'ready; you must want to turn in." The cargo was discharged into lighters and stored on shore. Then the "Dublin" was hauled into the shipyard and her inmates, captain, two mates, cook and steward moved to boarding houses on shore. The ship was hove down on her side, caulked and sheathed, and all day long we stood on the rafts alongside and went through the form of watching the workmen. We had a vacation from the captain's society in the evening, except when I had to go up to his lodgings and write his business letters for him.