And there, on the bosom of the endless sea, we saw a ship becalmed.
When I recovered my senses, the cutter was creeping under her lee, and the crew were throwing us a rope.
"The women first," said somebody in a cheerful voice. "And after them send up the wounded man."
And soon kind, pitying faces were bending over us. And very tender hands were feeding Sylvia and me.
"They've had a pooty consid'able squeak, I guess," said the cheerful voice.
And somebody answered, "That's so."
We had been picked up by an American schooner.