Just then the Head entered the room, and he, too, expressed his sorrow at what had happened, and Jim appreciated the kindness of his masters.
He had dreaded going back to school, but it was not very dreadful after all. Most of the boys looked at him curiously, but only one or two said anything, and then matters resumed their usual course.
At home it was much worse, although Susie, with strange persistence, still cherished the hope that her father had not been drowned.
"We don't know," she argued stoutly—"no one knows. The papers say some of the crew got ashore."
"Don't be stupid," said her brother. "It says plainly enough that father went down with the ship."
"But he might have been picked up afterwards, or got ashore somewhere else."
Even Susie's faith gave way, however, when a fuller account of the wreck came to hand. It was supplied by an A.B. named Davies, who had been picked up by the steamship Cormorant.
"It was on a Friday night," the newspaper report of his narrative ran, "and we were there or thereabout up to the latitude of Cape Horn. I had turned in 'all standing,' for the weather was squally, and I didn't expect to get much of a nap. Sure enough I'd hardly got my eyes shut when there came a crash, and some one sang out, 'All hands, ahoy!' We tumbled up the ladder in a hurry, and I tell you there wasn't a man there who didn't think Davy Jones was calling us. It was a night! The rain was coming down full pelt, and you couldn't keep your feet for the wind. Spars snapped like match-boxes, and the barque lay nearly on her beam-ends. It was dark as pitch just then, though it cleared up afterwards. We did what we could to save the ship; but, bless you, we had no more chance than a parcel of babies. She was settling down like a stone, and the old man sung out that we'd better try the boats. I ran to help clear the port quarter boat, and got in, when a heavy sea broke over her, smashing her in two. Down I went a long way, but at last came up to the surface again, and hammered my right hand against something hard. This turned out to be a top-gallant mast, so I took a firm grip. I couldn't see anything of the Morning Star, but there seemed to be a lot of rigging about, and I heard some men shouting in the distance. I reckoned afterwards it must have been the first mate and the chaps who got away in the other boat. I hulloed back, but they couldn't hear, and I reckoned I was done. Soon after that came another shout close to me, and I yelled back, 'Ahoy, there! Is that you, Mr. Hartland?'
"'Yes. Who are you?'
"'Davies,' I sings out—'on a mast.'