The derelict ship was by this time quite near, and scores of eager eyes were scanning it, to see if perchance there was not after all someone left on board. But all looked as quiet and deserted as when the wreck had been first sighted, and it was with many a sigh of pity that the hope of still saving some of the crew was abandoned. There had been many suggestions from passengers that the mail boat should slow down, and send some men to board the derelict. But this proposal was negatived by the captain, as he did not believe anybody was on board, and was not justified in losing time for mere curiosity’s sake. So the great steamer forged ahead, leaving the stranger in its wake, and it was already well astern, when suddenly a long, mournful howl was heard, thrilling every soul on board with a feeling of horror. Once more eyes and glasses were brought into requisition, and then it was seen that a large dog, or, rather, the emaciated skeleton of one, was tottering to and fro on the poop of the dismasted wreck, and howling forth a pitiful appeal for succour to the possible saviours whom, in the semi-obliviousness of exhaustion and starvation, he had failed to see when nearer. “You will stop the ship now, won’t you?” cried out a dozen people at once. But the captain declined to do any such thing. “I have my reputation for speed and efficiency to keep up,” he said. “I have no end of competition to fight against, and I cannot afford to lose time for a dog’s sake.” “Oh, how can you be so cruel?” exclaimed a bright, fair girl, of about Annie’s age. “It will be as bad as murder if you refuse to save the poor beast. Oh! listen.” Again that long-drawn howl of despair escaped the distracted and suffering animal, as he saw that the distance between himself and an ark of safety was rapidly widening, and there were others who joined their entreaties once more to those of Miss Bywater. But the captain’s resolve was adamantine, and loud murmurs of disapproval were heard on all sides, while many of the ladies could not refrain from crying, so powerfully was their pity and excitement aroused. Mr. Cory’s face was also twitching with sympathy, and his hands were clenched angrily, until the conduct of the dog put an idea into his head upon which he at once based his action. Seeing that the steamer was leaving him to certain death, the brave beast flung himself into the water, determined upon making an effort to reach the vanishing asylum. Of course, the feat was hopeless, for, though he might have been a good swimmer, starvation had reduced him to such straits, that it was problematical if he would be able to swim twenty yards. “Annie, I cannot stand this,” said Mr. Cory, hurriedly. “You mustn’t be alarmed at what I’m going to do. You know that few swimmers can beat me, and if I can save that dog, I mean to do it.”