"There came a 'smooth,' and the boat shot in"They lay with sails shaking and a flare burning over the quarter, and listened for the sound of oars again, with the brig rolling and thrashing under them. They heard it at last, and a voice urging the rowers on; and soon a boat came out of the blackness of the night, reeling crazily over the seas.

Medbury stood on the rail, with the crew clustered behind him, as the boat swung in.

"Steady!" he sang out. "Steady there, or you'll swamp her! Hold off, and watch your chance!"

There came a "smooth," and the boat shot in, and a black little figure leaped upon a thwart, and, steadied by two men, was swung up over the rail and to the deck by Medbury almost before he realized that it was a woman.

As her feet struck the deck, she turned with a little laugh."Mon Dieu!" she cried, "eet iss betteh—dees." She watched the others coming over the rail, and, when all were safe, turned to Medbury with a little courtesy. "Eet iss ver' romanteec tow be safed from doze salt wateh by so nize young gentleman," she murmured, with a gleeful face. "Yo' happen tow be a mah'ied man, maybe?"

"No, ma'am," Medbury answered soberly.

She laughed in his face.

"Yo' sad faw das, maybe?" she asked mischievously.

"Oh, no," he answered, laughingly recovering himself.

"Das iss mo' betteh," she said demurely, and turned to Hetty.

Taking both her hands in her own, she kissed her impulsively.

"Ah ahm mo' gladdeh faw tow see yo' naw ahnybody," she said. "Ah see nut'ing but doze mens all tam. Ah t'ink Ah go git crezzy," she added laughingly.They got the brig on her course again, and took the captain of the boat and his two passengers down into the cabin. The captain said his vessel was a Danish bark from Copenhagen, bound for Santa Cruz, and she had been burned two days before. They had taken to their boats, but, as there was no wind, they had lingered near, in the hope that the smoke from the burning vessel would be a beacon for some rescuer. But no vessel had been sighted, and before night came on they had started on their long road. Their other boat had been lost in the fog.

The captain had told his story in fair English, and at its close he turned to his passengers, and said they were going home to Santa Cruz, where the young man, a lieutenant in the army, was stationed. His sister, Miss Stromberg, he added, lived with her brother. As he mentioned their names, he bowed. Both rose, and, passing gravely around the group, shook hands with all. They were much alike—small, dark-haired, with handsome, piquant faces. Life seemed a huge joke to both.

As they seated themselves again, the girl looked about her and smiled.

"Ah t'ink dis iss mo' nizeh naw das liddy boat," she said.

"Mooch mo' nizeh," her brother agreed. He smiled, and bowed to the collected company, beginning with Hetty and ending with her.

"I hope so," said Captain March; then he turned to the Danish captain and added: "I'm glad to get your men; I've already found your vessel."

When he had finished the story of his own misfortune, he went up on deck, followed by the two rescued men.

"My dear," said Mrs. March to the girl, "you must be tired out. Now you must have something to eat and then go straight to bed. My daughter can easily take you in her room."The girl laughed, and, leaning forward, placed her hand on the speaker's knee.

"Ah t'ink das iss mos' kind, lak ma own modder. Das iss ve'y nize. How s'all Ah say no at so kind heaht? Ah t'ink Ah ahm 'mos' t'ousand year' old, and 'mos' aslip—me." Her shoulders drooped; her eyes closed. "And das iss ve'y impolite wiz so kind, good peop'!" Her eyes opened again, and begged forgiveness for the discourtesy.

"Nonsense, child!" said Mrs. March. "I should think you'd be half dead. I only hope you won't find worse trouble here; though I must say we deserve all we get for trusting ourselves on the water—we women."

"Yo' lak not doze wateh?" Miss Stromberg asked.

"Like it!" said Mrs. March. "I'm afraid every minute."

"Ah!" she murmured piteously. Her eyes caught Drew's look, and she smiled. "Yo' lak eet, maybe?" she asked him."Yes," he answered; "or at least until to-night. But I do not know it well."

"No?" she said.

"Mr. Drew is a minister of the gospel," explained Mrs. March, with dignity; then she added with smiling derision: "He thinks he's taking a pleasure trip."

"Ah!"—Miss Stromberg flashed a bright smile upon Drew—"das iss ve'y nize tow be a mineester—tow be so good as tow prich tow peop'. Ma fader one also wass; but me—" she shrugged her shoulders—"Ah find das ve'y hahd tow be so good all da tam. Eet iss ve'y sad not tow tek doze examp' off ma fader." She sighed.

Her brother and Captain Rand joined her at supper, and brother and sister were very gay; but the captain ate hurriedly, and speedily returned to the deck. Lieutenant Stromberg soon followed him, but Drew lingered. Miss Stromberg had been telling her experiences in the wreck."And you were not frightened?" he asked her.

"Mos' exceeding'," she answered gaily.

"Your brother says you were very brave," he told her, smilingly.

"He!" she exclaimed, with gay scorn. "He knows not. Eet iss woman's paht tow deceife efer. Yo' learn so not alretty?" She laughed in his face.

"Ah, I have much to learn!" he answered, with a smile.

"Eet iss so," she agreed; "doze theologic school tich not efer't'ing."

"Now I shall be on my guard," he answered, and, going up the companionway, laughingly bade her good night.

"On guahd!" Her scoffing voice followed him. "Das iss doze mos' worse tam."

Smilingly he walked to the rail, and, leaning his elbows on it, looked out into the night. Medbury, walking the deck, stopped at his side."Jolly little bit of flotsam we picked up," he said.

"Yes," answered Drew; "she is charming."

"Well, she's a little flirt," said Medbury. "Did you hear what she said to me when she came aboard? It took away my breath for a minute." He laughed.

"She's audacious," said Drew; "but I think that's all. I should rather say she is bent on amusing herself. I should call her remarkably sincere."

"Well, she's remarkably pretty," replied Medbury. "And what a voice! She makes that lingo of hers sound like a pretty little piece of music. I hope we'll not have to make her take to the boat again."

Until then Drew had hardly thought of the wind. Now it seemed like the pressure of a hand against his face. The darkness of the night was relieved by a luminous haze close down to the sea, which seemed to radiate a mysterious light that was like an opaque spray. The stars were gone, and the wind no longer came in gusts, but in a great rush of sound that overbore speech like the beat of a corps of drums, near and threatening. Every strand of rigging twanged in the sweep of the gale; the canvas hummed with a muffled roar; now and then a wave broke amidships with a sudden shock, and ran hissing across the deck.

Medbury had gone forward to the pumps, which stopped suddenly, and Drew felt his way along the house to the break in the deck. A group stood about the well with a lantern, and Medbury was bending over it. "Slack three feet and a half," he said, straightening up. Captain March turned away without a word, and walked aft; but Drew stayed to see the pumps rigged again and their wearying thump begin once more, with four men at the bars. As Medbury passed him, Drew asked him what it was."Three and a half feet," he said, and hurried past.

Then Drew at last understood that there was that depth of water in the hold.

It came on to rain later, at first a few small drops out of the black sky, and then a driving sheet that seemed to sweep straight on and never to fall. One by one the passengers disappeared, and Captain March and Medbury, in oilskins, held the quarter-deck with the man at the wheel. Back and forth across the deck the captain walked, now climbing to windward, with his body bent forward and his legs far apart, now braced back, and taking short steps down the wet incline, and sometimes breaking into a little run and checking himself at the rail. Medbury stood for the most part at the windward corner of the house, going forward from time to time, but never for long. They rarely spoke.

Once Medbury went to the binnacle for a moment."Steady, man! steady!" he said. "You're yawing over half the card."

"Steady, sir," the sailor replied in an emotionless voice.

Captain March stopped his walk at the wheel, and looked aloft.

"Steer hard?" he asked good-naturedly. He had shouted, for the uproar was now too great for ordinary speech.

"Yes, sir," the man replied, and bent to the spokes.

"Guess I'll take a hold with you," shouted the captain, and stepped to his side; but Medbury touched his arm.

"I'll take it," he said; but the captain shook his head.

"No," he answered; "I'll try it a spell."

Medbury cast an uneasy look aloft at the maintopsail. In the murky light he could see it bellied out like a great bowl.

"It's that topsail makes her steer hard," he cried in an aggrieved tone.Captain March did not glance up.

"Yes," he shouted; "but I guess it's drawing some."

Medbury looked at him sharply, and then turned away, grinning.

"Well, I guess it is!" he muttered to himself. "The old pirate!"

He made his way to the topsail-sheet, and shook it; it was like a rod of iron.

"Couldn't budge it, if I wanted to," he said to himself. "I wonder how long that sail's going to stand all this."

He started forward, shot in under the lee of the center-house as a great green sea came over the rail, and, dripping, mounted to the forecastle-deck. The lookout stood with his arms clasped about the capstan-head, staring straight ahead. In his yellow oilskins, he had the look of a wooden man, washed by the seas, immobile, without sensation.

Medbury took him by the shoulder, and he barely turned his head. His face was as emotionless as his figure; only his eyes showed life.

"You'll—" Medbury lowered his head as he began to shout, for a sheet of spray sprang at his face like a cat, blinding him and making him gasp. Then he felt the deck slipping into a bottomless abyss, and, opening his eyes, saw the jibboom disappear, then the bowsprit, while over the bow rolled a great green wave, shot with white, and irradiated with phosphorescence. Almost to the waist it buried them, while they stood for what seemed an interminable time, clasping the capstan, with the dragging water roaring about them. The strange fancy flashed across Medbury's mind that it was like being on the nose of a gigantic mole frantically burrowing underground. Then the bow rose again, shook itself free, and Medbury and the sailor, unlocking their grip on the capstan, looked at each other.

"You'll have to get out of this," shouted Medbury, finishing what he had begun to say. The man nodded.

"That was the first bad one, sir," he yelled back. "I don't know's I mind bein' drownded, but I don't want to be speared to death." He looked aloft, where the lighter spars and sails seemed like a falling arch above him. "I've been expectin' to get that royal-yard through my back for the last hour. Couldn't hear it if it did tumble—in all this noise."

"Well, you'll have to get out of this," Medbury repeated mechanically. "Go up to the top of the center-house. You'll be safe there."

They made their way down, the man going up to his station, and Medbury aft.

"She's burrowing a good deal," he shouted in the captain's ear—"like an old mole."

The captain nodded.

"Good reason," he replied.

"What did you say?""I said, 'Good reason.' There's a lot of heft in this wind."

"I sent the lookout up to the top of the center-house," Medbury now called. "No place for him forward."

"That's right," answered Captain March; then he nodded his head to show that he had heard and approved.

The watch was changed at twelve, and the second mate came on deck, but Medbury still lingered. Captain March would not leave the wheel. At three bells Medbury sounded the pumps again, and reported a full three and a half feet of water in the hold. It had gained two inches in three hours.

Captain March merely nodded when he was told, and turned his inscrutable face aloft.

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