In the Yellow Sea

and damp. My clothes clung to my limbs, which were stiff under me. My straw hat, with the ribbon of which I had been so proud-a yach

efed still, and the jib was as taut as a board. Daddy, I thought, was steering splendidly in such a sea, but I at once perceived that the cliffs had sunk deep

r, of something unpleasant, almost sulphurous, but not of sulphur. Something had happened! I looked around me; astern I

er, Tim? Is the

for fun, as he called me his "you

s my voice had not reache

er bound? What sh

"Come aft, if ye can, and bear a hand. I

lf in and half out of the boat, dipping and lashing the waves, and bringing the Osprey down by the quarter and stern, deepl

n full, with the gaff, upon the stern-sheets, and nearly swa

nd. I was face to face with death for

r, the tangled ropes, the mainsheet still gripped in Tim's hand,

rry had been struck by that fearful flash, and I must have been laid out senseless. The peculiar feeling

ttempt to speak. He kept the boat's head close to the wind as possible, but we drifted out farther and farther all the time. We had no grapnel, and had

the body, which lay in the small, sunk, stern-sheets, still half supported. Murry was dead! My heart thumped in my thr

Tim at length. "Can't we carry hi

old man upon the lockers; the rolling and jumping of the boat was

d his jersey had been split. Those were the only signs of dissolution. Poor Murry!

erceive that he was feeling deeply, though his training and habit did not tend to sentim

teering, Tim?" I asked. "W

d-unless we run ashore," replied Tim g

do you mean?" I

ink. She's takin' the sea in fine, and I de

ickly. "You're keep

e it, Mister Jule. 'Spose you looks and bails; there's a dipper there. See to the well. Come, w

enough. There are several vessels y

See here, we're driftin' now; we can't signal, the weather's thick a'ready, and likely as not a fog

as leaking, not badly; and if we could set the mainsail we could sail fairly we

o rapidly; it was three o'clock already. We we

much as I could. That was not much, however, and all the time the day declined, the sea ros

let her drive? We shall surely run against something bou

' like tea-time. Tell ye the truth, Mister Jule, I ain't the spirit for this. Thin

't say die, you know. We have had a bad time, I know that

out your eyesight," retorted Tim. "There was no 'Provid

,' remember; and this is the worst I ever knew. Besides, it's a matter of self-defence

ly, just see the weather! If we ge

l, can we? No; well, then, loose the jib-sheet and drive out, there's plenty of stea

n the outline of the poor old skipper's fo

think best. I'll say no more. Let

few moments. The spin-

' and arter all, the old dad-he can't hurt. He's 'done his bit,' and done it well! We'm alive-like, and we mustn't giv

y hand on it. We'll sink or s

nk more than swim. What you says I dessay's right

ined to make a run for

The wind was lashing us then across Channel; the afternoon was glooming, the sun had disappeared to our

w," I said, in an effort to be cheerf

l into a calm dream of home. I remember it well even now. The whole dream was for me a reality. My stepfather was looking at me, while I appeared to be on board a large ship like a man-of-war. Guns were mounted fore and aft, a number of men

d of us. She's whistling; she's seen us. I wave

sprey was half full of water. I had been dr

I cried. "Say we

The steamer sees us right e

ered. "Somehow I can't believe

at launched! Don't you believe the wat

asleep. I gazed at the sw

swim! You said w

will never see the home again, arter all. W

tful it would be to see mother again, to tell her all my adventures, to confess my temper, and to try to do al

ungster," s

cut short. I looked up, the

cer. "How did you lads get into this

d in a sleepy voi

m here,"

body?" I asked. "Br

sman. "A body-a dead body!

" I cried. "Won't y

ster! There, you see, just i

, I fancied. Then we increased our distance. The Osprey lifted and fell, appeared again, disappeared; ros

d was placed upon my collar, and I sank back unconscious of al

lone, lone sea-in a spot unmarked but holy," he lies