“Stand by your braces!” exclaimed the pilot, with startling quickness. “Heave away that lead!” These preparations taught the crew to expect the crisis, and every officer and man stood in fearful silence, at his assigned station, awaiting the issue of the trial. Even the quartermaster at the cun gave out his orders to the men at the wheel, in deeper and hoarser tones than usual, as if anxious not to disturb the quiet and order of the vessel. While this deep expectation pervaded the frigate, the piercing cry of the leadsman, as he called “By the mark seven,” rose above the tempest, crossed over the decks, and appeared to pass away to leeward, borne on the blast like the warnings of some water-spirit. “'Tis well,” returned the pilot, calmly; “try it again.” The short pause was succeeded by another cry, “And a half-five!” “She shoals! she shoals!” exclaimed Griffith: “keep her a good full.” “Ay! you must hold the vessel in command, now,” said the pilot, with those cool tones that are most appalling in critical moments because they seem to denote most preparation and care. The third call, “By the deep four,” was followed by a prompt direction from the stranger to tack. Griffith seemed to emulate the coolness of the pilot, in issuing the necessary orders to execute this manoeuvre. The vessel rose slowly from the inclined position into which she had been forced by the tempest, and the sails were shaking violently, as if to release themselves from their confinement, while the ship stemmed the billows, when the well-known voice of the sailing-master was heard shouting from the forecastle: “Breakers! breakers, dead ahead!” This appalling sound seemed yet to be lingering about the ship, when a second voice cried: “Breakers on our lee bow!” “We are in a bite of the shoals, Mr. Gray,” cried the commander. “She loses her way; perhaps an anchor might hold her.” “Clear away that best bower!” shouted Griffith through his trumpet. “Hold on!” cried the pilot, in a voice that reached the very hearts of all who heard him; “hold on everything.” The young man turned fiercely to the daring stranger who thus defied the discipline of his vessel, and at once demanded: “Who is it that dares to countermand my orders? Is it not enough that you run the ship into danger, but you must interfere to keep her there? If another word----” “Peace, Mr. Griffith,” interrupted the captain, bending from the rigging, his gray locks blowing about in the wind and adding a look of wildness to the haggard care that he exhibited by the light of his lantern; “yield the trumpet to Mr. Gray; he alone can save us.” Griffith threw his speaking-trumpet on the deck, and as he walked proudly away, muttered in bitterness of feeling: “Then all is lost, indeed! and among the rest the foolish hopes with which I visited this coast.”