Tied up to the other side of Long Wharf when we got in was Tom O'Brien's vessel. Big Bill, like a good gossip, waddled over to get the news, and soon came galloping back. "She's gone!" he called out, and showed us a Boston paper with the report of how four men's bodies with a life-preserver marked _Henriette_ had been picked up off Nantucket the day before. There was also the story in a New York paper of how a big ocean liner had been in the storm. She was six hundred foot long and bound for New York. There was a bishop aboard, and when it got too rough for the passengers, some of them wrote notes to the bishop asking him to hold a prayer-meeting in the saloon. He started to hold the prayer-meeting but it grew too rough. They had to quit. "And they in good deep water where they were! I wonder what they'd 'a' thought if they'd been in this little one and where she was?" said Tom Haile. "Maybe they'd held the prayer-meetin' anyway, then," said Shorty. We had come away from the _Henriette_ in only our oilskins and trousers and undershirts. Tom Haile and Tom O'Brien and a couple of fish-buyers on Long Wharf started a collection to get us some clothes. We took the money up Thames Street to some clothing dealer who was a brother Moccasin to Tom Haile and O'Brien. But belonging to the same order didn't make any difference. The clothing dealer wouldn't take a cent off. "Not even for shipwrecked seamen?" asked O'Brien. "Being shipwrecked seamen don't make the clothes cost any less to me," said the dealer. "A hell of a fine brother Moccasin you are!" said O'Brien. "A fine brother Moccasin yourself!" said the clothing dealer, "wantin' me to lose money on a sale." So we went to another place, and he happened to be a Jew and not a Moccasin. Not that he wouldn't like to be a member of that noble order; which made O'Brien and Haile warm up to him, so that they forgot to argue about the price at all. They had to saw a foot off Shorty's new pants to make them fit, and the coat came pretty low down on him; but no harm in that Bill and Oliver and I said. We got pretty good fits. They bought tickets for us and we took the train to Gloucester, and then I went down to Tony Webber's to get a shave, and there was a young fellow in the chair next to me said to Tony: "Yer sh'd have been out in the breeze!" "What vessel?" I asked. "The _Thunderbolt_," he says. "And what shape is she in?" "Go down to the halibut company's wharf and see," he says. I did go down later. She'd lost both masts to near her deck, and her bowsprit was broken off short at the knightheads--not a thing left on her except her last coat of paint and a few twisted yarns of her lower shrouds. But, thank the Lord, no men lost. They had all stayed aboard. "They were luckier than the _Hiawatha_. Heard about the _Hiawatha_?" asked a man in the chair. "No; what about her?"