"As we came under her stern I saw no name on it; I cannot make out what she can be." The lockers in the captain's state cabin were open, and none of his instruments were to be seen. Two or three of the other side cabins had apparently been searched in a hurry for valuables. The doors of the aftermost ones were however still closed. The violent heaving and the crashing sounds which reached their ears, showing how much the ship was suffering from the rude blows of the seas, made Adam unwilling to prolong the search. He and his companions secured such articles as appeared most worth saving. "Let us look into the cabin before we go," exclaimed Ben, opening the door of one which seemed the largest. As he did so a cry was heard, and a child's voice asked, "Who's there?" He and Adam sprang in. CHAPTER THREE. SAFE TO LAND. As Adam Halliburt and his son sprang into the cabin, they saw in a small cot by the side of a larger one, a little girl, her light hair falling over her fair young neck. She lifted her head and gazed at them from her blue eyes with looks of astonishment mingled with terror. "Is no one with you, my pretty maiden?" exclaimed Adam; "how came you to be left all alone here?" "Ayah gone. I called, she no come back," answered the child. "This is no place for you, my little dear, we will take care of you," said Adam, lifting her up and wrapping the bed clothes round her, for she was dressed only in her nightgown. "Oh, let me go; I must stay here till my ayah comes back," cried the child; yet she did not struggle, comprehending, it seemed, from the kind expression of Adam's countenance, that he intended her no harm. "The person you speak of won't come back, I fear; so you must come with us, little maid, and if God wills we will carry you safely on shore," answered Adam, folding the clothes tighter round the child, and grasping her securely in his left arm as a woman carries an infant, and leaving his right one at liberty, for this he knew he should require to hold on by, until having made his way across the heaving, slippery deck, he could take the necessary leap into the boat. "It is wet and cold, we must cover you up," he said, adding to himself, "The child would otherwise see a sight enough to frighten her young heart." The little girl did not again speak as Adam carried her through the cabins. "You must let go those things, lads, and stand ready for lending me a hand to prevent any harm happening to this little dear," he said, as he mounted the companion-ladder. Before reaching the deck he drew the blanket over the child's face, and then, with an activity no younger seaman could have surpassed, he sprang to the side of the ship and grasped a stanchion, to which he held on while he shouted to the crew of his boat, who had for safety's sake pulled her off a few fathoms from the wreck, keeping their oars going to retain their position.