I held my breath as I saw the masts sink lower and lower. First the crossjack-yard was submerged, then the gaff with the ensign hanging dead at the peak, then the mainyard; presently only the main-topmast cross-trees were visible, a dark cross upon the water: they vanished; at the same moment the sun disappeared behind the horizon; and now we were alone on the great, breathing deep, with all the eastern sky growing dark as we watched. "It's all over!" said the boatswain, breaking the silence, and speaking in a hollow tone. "No livin' man'll ever see the _Grosvenor_ agin!" Mary shivered and leaned against me. I took up a rug and folded it round her, and kissed her forehead. The boatswain had turned his back upon us, and sat with his hands folded, I believe in prayer. I am sure he was thinking of Jim Cornish, and I would not have interrupted that honest heart's communion with its Maker for the value of the ship that had sunk. Darkness came down very quickly, and that we might lose no chance of being seen by any distant vessel, I lighted the ship's lantern and hoisted it at the mast-head. I also lighted the bull's-eye lamp and set it in the stern-sheets. "Mary," I whispered, "I will make you up a bed in the bottom of the boat. Whilst this weather lasts, dearest, we have no cause to be alarmed by our position. It will make me happy to see you sleeping, and be sure that whilst you sleep there will be watchful eyes near you." "I will sleep as I am, here, by your side. I shall rest better so," she answered. "I could not sleep lying down." It was too sweet a privilege to forego: I passed my arm around her and held her close to me; and she closed her eyes like a child to please me.