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“Boys, are you prepared to meet your God?” asked the captain, in a deep tone, making an effort to speak. “Pray with me.” The boys went to him and knelt by his side. He tried in vain to lift up his hands. They repeated the solemn words he uttered. His speech grew fainter and fainter, then ceased altogether. A few faint groans followed, then there was an ominous silence. Robby held the lantern to the old man’s face. The eyes were open, but all expression had gone.

“Speak, Captain Snow; speak, Mr Snow–oh! do–do!” cried the boy. “He’s gone–the captain’s dead, Bill,” he said, sadly, after waiting for some time and getting no answer. “How sorry father and the rest will be!”

The boys had not even then realised what had happened on deck. Again the lugger was wildly tossed about. Another heavy blow was followed by a rush of water below. It seemed to come in forward. They could stand the suspense no longer, but rushing up the companion-ladder, with their united strength they forced back the hatch, and looked out. Better had it been for them, poor boys, had they remained in ignorance till daylight of what had happened.

The masts were gone; the boat was gone; the bulwarks were gone; and not a human being remained on deck. The sea had swept it clear, with the exception of the companion-hatch, which was low and unusually strong. To this they owed their preservation. Had it been carried away, the vessel must soon have filled; as it was, the fore-hatch had lifted, and allowed the water to pour down. Should it be carried away, the vessel would very probably go down. Mechanically drawing over the hatch again, they returned into the cabin, and sat down, sobbing and wringing their hands.

“Perhaps they’re gone away in the boat,” suggested Bill Cuffe.

Hobby for an instant checked his tears, but immediately saw the improbability of this. “Oh, no, no! They’re all gone! they’re all gone!” he repeated again and again. “No one but us two and the dead captain aboard the craft.”

“What shall we do, then?” asked Bill, after a long silence.

Hobby looked at his companion earnestly before speaking. “Trust in God, and do our duty,” he said, at length.

“Yes, but what is our duty, Robby?”

“I don’t see that we can do much, as yet,” answered Robby, “but trust in God, and pray to Him. Yes, I’ve heard say that when people die, their friends go and shut their eyes: the captain’s are open; let’s go and do that for him.”

Together they went back to the body, and while Bill held the lantern, Robby reverently closed the eyes of the dead man.

The Sea-gull continued tumbling about as before, now tossed to the top of one curling wave, now to that of another; while every now and then a fresh rush of water down the fore-hatch made the two boys dread more than ever that she would ere long go to the bottom. They dared not go on deck to see how matters stood, because they knew that if they did they most probably would be swept off it; so they sat down on the floor of the little cabin, and held on by the leg of the table, wishing that daylight would come and the storm cease.

The night seemed a very long one; so, indeed, it was. Wearied out, they at length both slept. How long, they could not tell, but a sudden lurch threw them against the side of the vessel, and they awoke, but with their senses confused, and neither of them able to recollect clearly what had occurred. The light in their lantern had burnt out, and they were in total darkness.

Suddenly Bill exclaimed, “Oh, Robby, where’s the captain?”