Then down went the angry sun, and, slowly to-night, came darkness on. But although the spray dashed inboard so much that she scarce could look to windward, the sky was clear and a thousand bright stars were shining.
Later on there was the aurora borealis. Later still, and after eating a few nuts, the gipsy lass, still crouching in the old place, fell into a deep, sound sleep while saying her prayers.
. . . . . . .
'But I tell you it is, sir. Just out yonder on the lee bow, sir; my night-glass never told me a fib yet.'
'Well, mate, if you like to keep away a bit and maybe save a life, as you suggest, you may do so; only, don't let her get stove on top of some floating wreckage.'
'The wind is nearly down, skipper, though the seas are a bit high.'
'Hard a-port!'
'Hard it is, sir!'
'Easy, steady as you go!'
A short, sturdy sailor was this mate, a bearded man with a kindly eye, who had roughed it far away in the Greenland Ocean even from his boyhood, and the bark he was now on board of was the Nor'lan' Star of Hull, on a voyage now to Archangel for timber. Few vessels dared so dangerous a voyage at this season; but those brave fellows who did managed to make a very good thing of it. There was a big lump of a boy standing by his side in the starlight.