Day arter day, that there unfort'nate ship behaved noble, I'm
told, and did her duty brave, my Pretty, but at one blow a'most her
bulwarks was stove in, her masts and rudder carried away, her best men
swept overboard, and she left in the mercy of the storm as had no mercy,
but blowed harder and harder yet, while the waves dashed over her, and
beat her in, and every time they come a thundering at her, broke her
like a shell. Every black spot in every mountain of water that rolled
away was a bit of the ship's life, or a living man, and so she went to
pieces, Beauty, and no grass will never grow upon the graves of them as
manned that ship."
"They were not all lost!" cried Florence. "Some were saved! Was one?"
"Aboard o' that there unfortunate wessel," said the captain, rising from
his chair, and clenching his hand with prodigious energy and exultation,
"was a lad, a gallant lad--as I've heard tell--that had loved when he
was a boy to read and talk about brave actions in shipwrecks--I've heerd
him!--I've heerd him!--and he remembered of 'em in his hour of need; for
when the stoutest hearts and oldest hands was hove down, he was firm and
cheery. It wa'n't the want of objects to like and love ashore that gave
him courage; it was his nat'ral mind. I've seen it in his face when he
was no more than a child--ah, many a time!--and when I thought it
nothing but his good looks, bless him!"
"And was he saved?" cried Florence.
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