"There is a question! You, who modestly call yourself the best horseman on the island, how would you do, if you had nothing to ride upon?"
"I could at least fall back upon broomsticks," retorted the imperturbable Jack. "Besides, in Willis's case, the canoe was the steed, the oars the saddle—nothing more."
"We shall not stay here to solve the riddle," said Becker; "the storm seems disposed to abate; and the more that it was unreasonable to face certain destruction in a vain endeavor to assist a problematical shipwreck, the more it is incumbent upon us now to go in quest of the Nelson."
"But the sea will still be very terrible!" quickly added Mrs. Becker.
"If all danger were over, wife, the enterprise would do us little credit. It is our duty to do the best we can, according to the strength and means at our command. Fritz, Ernest, and Jack, go and put on your life-preservers—we shall take up Willis in passing."
"I must not insist," said Mrs. Becker; "the sacrifice would, indeed, be no sacrifice, if it could be easily borne; and yet—"
"Remember the time, wife, when I was obliged, in order to secure the precious remains of our ship, to venture with our eldest sons on a float of tubs, leaving you exposed, alone with a child of seven, to the chance of eternal isolation!"
"That is very true, husband: I am unjust towards Providence, which has never ceased blessing us; but I am only a weak woman, and my heart often gets the better of my head."
"To-day I leave Frank with you; but, instead of your being his protector, as was the case fifteen years ago, he will be yours. Then there is Mrs. Wolston, her daughters, and husband, quite a new world of sympathies and consolations, by which our island has been so miraculously peopled."
"Go then, husband, and may God bring back in safety both the pinnace and the Nelson!"