Wilder appeared to be superior to any reply. He began to pace the deck, thoughtful, it is true, but still composed, and entirely self-possessed. In the mean time, as a common desire to quit the wreck as soon as possible actuated all the men, their preparations advanced with incredible activity. The wondering and alarmed females had hardly time to think clearly on the extraordinary situation in which they found themselves, before they saw the form of the helpless Master borne past them to the boat; and, in another minute, they were summoned to take their places at his side. Thus imperiously called upon to act, they began to feel the necessity of decision. Remonstrances, they feared, would be useless; for the fierce and malignant looks which were cast, from time to time, at Wilder, as the labour proceeded, proclaimed the danger of awakening such obstinate and ignorant minds into renewed acts of violence. The governess bethought her of an appeal to the wounded man, but the look of wild care which he had cast about him, on being lifted to the deck, and the expression of bodily and mental pain that gleamed across his rugged features, as he buried them in the blankets by which he was enveloped, but too plainly announced that little assistance was, in his present condition, to be expected from him. “What remains for us to do?” she at length demanded of the seemingly insensible object of her concern. “I would I knew!” he answered quickly, casting a keen but hurried glance around the whole horizon. “It is not improbable that they should reach the shore. Four-and-twenty hours of calm will assure it.” “And if otherwise?” “A blow at north-west, or from any quarter off the land, will prove their ruin.” “But the ship?” “If deserted, she must sink.” “Then will I speak in your favour to these hearts of flint! I know not why I feel such interest in your welfare, inexplicable young man, but much would I suffer rather than believe that you incurred this peril.” “Stop, dearest Madam,” said Wilder, respectfully arresting her movement with his hand. “I cannot leave the vessel.” “We know not yet. The most stubborn natures may be subdued; even ignorance can be made to open its ears at the voice of entreaty. I may prevail.” “There is one temper to be quelled—one reason to convince—one prejudice to conquer, over which you have no power.” “Whose is that?” “My own.” “What mean you, sir? Surely you are not weak enough to suffer resentment against such beings to goad you to an act of madness?” “Do I seem mad?” demanded Wilder. “The feeling by which I am governed may be false, but, such as it is, it is grafted on my habits, my opinions; I will say, my principles. Honour forbids me to quit a ship that I command, while a plank of her is afloat.” “Of what use can a single arm prove at such a crisis?”. “None,” he answered, with a melancholy smile. “I must die, in order that others, who may be serviceable hereafter, should do their duty.”