There she sat—her arms around the boys’ heads—her face bent over them, her dark hair streaming. “Oh, sister, don’t look so! Oh, sister, speak to us!” “Oh, my boys, my boys! what shall sister say to you! What can sister do for you? Oh, lads, the best thing we could do would be to put to sea in a leaking boat and go down with the others!—only that the Lord forbids such!” she cried, wildly clasping them to her heart. “Oh, no, sister! don’t think of such a thing as that! We don’t want to die at all,” said Edwy, the younger boy. The elder, Willful, said nothing, but gazed with unspeakable love in his sister’s face. “Oh, boys, boys! your sister will turn to a pillar of salt if she stays here!” “Well, _don’t_ stay here, Barbara! get the insurance-money and buy a vessel, and let us lade it and make a voyage to Habana,” said Willful, gazing earnestly into his sister’s face. For the first time Barbara lifted her lion-like head, shaking her black hair as a mane from her breast—her great, strong eyes kindled, her nostrils quivered, as those of a steed that scents the battle afar off—she drew in a deep breath and exclaimed, in a quick, low, resolute tone— “That’s it! I have found it! You are right, Willful, my brother! Our father’s craft must be ours.” “You feel better now, sister?” said the gentle-spirited Edwy, putting his arm around her neck and kissing her cheek—“you feel better?” “Yes!—thank God.” “And you won’t any more talk about putting to sea in a leaking boat?” “No—Heaven forbid!” From this time Barbara’s spirits rallied. She looked around upon her circumstances, prospects, and duties, and her facilities for meeting the future. First, what were her duties? Her brothers looked to her for support, comfort and guidance. She had always filled a mother’s position toward them. She must also now occupy a father’s place. How should she properly discharge these obligations? Her father’s last will and testament, besides endowing her with half the small property, constituted her the whole executor of that will and the guardian of her brothers. The property consisted of the wild, unproductive farm and half-ruined house on the headland—an unprofitable but an inalienable estate, that would just bring garden vegetables and grain enough for family use; there were three or four negroes who worked the garden, and sometimes, when the Skipper had been short of hands, worked the ship. Besides this, there was the insurance-money of the ship and cargo that had also been assigned to Barbara. Looking over, and mentally appraising her property, her peculiar temperament, talents and circumstances, Barbara’s resolution was soon formed, and carried out. She determined to go to Baltimore, purchase a clipper, and lade it, take her negro sailors and her two brothers, and sail for the West Indies, to open a trade with her father’s old correspondents.