“My babby!” said Captain Corbet. “My babby! Ah, young sir, when you mention my babby, you don’t know that you tetch a cord in this parentual heart that throbs responsive. That thar is the strongest emotion that inspires this aged breast; but, young sir, dooty air powerfuller than love, an even that pe-recious infant has less claims on me at this moment than my Antelope. For my Antelope has ben the friend that’s ben faithful in thousand perls; that’s ben my refuge an my solace in times of persecution. Yes, young sirs, in the days when a bold an violent woman disturbed my peace, by dash-in a pail full of cold water over my head--at such times the Antelope hav took me to her heart; an can I ever cease to be affectionate an kind to thee, who’s ben so terewly kind to me--my Antelope? No, no; young sirs. Go, an tell my beloved one--my offspring--my inspired babby--that his parent, the aged Corbet, died a marchure’s death; died like a hero, a standin’ at his post; which post was the rudder-post of the Antelope. Tell him that; an tell him, tew, that, though dooty bound the feyther to the Antelope, yet still that feyther’s last thoughts was of his belessed babe.” At this point the Antelope gave another lurch, and rolled far over. Captain Corbet stopped abruptly, and stiffened his sinews, and clutched the tiller with a tighter grasp. The boys looked on with horror in their faces and in their hearts. It was a moment of awful expectation. They had cried, and bawled, and yelled till they were hoarse. They had prayed and entreated Captain Corbet to save himself. All in vain. But now the time for entreaty had passed. Suddenly the Antelope rolled back, and then her bows sank. A huge wave rolled over her, followed by others, which foamed from bow to stern. Then all the sea settled itself over the sinking schooner. The Antelope was going down! The hull disappeared! The rail sank under water! But Captain Corbet stood at his post, erect, rigid, his hands clasping the tiller. Beneath him the Antelope sank down into the sea. Around him the waters rolled. They rolled about his knees; about his thighs; about his waist. His venerable hair fluttered in the breeze; his eyes were fixed, with a rapt and abstracted air, on vacancy. The boys looked on in horror. Instinctively they pushed the boat back out of the reach of the waters that ingulfed the Antelope, so as to avoid being carried down into that vortex. The waters rolled about the form of the aged navigator, and so he descended with his beloved Antelope, till they were above his waist. The boys could no longer cry to him. They were petrified with horror. They sat, with white faces, awaiting the end. XXIII.