“Avast there, mate!” exclaimed Tom; “be a man. Don’t give in till the last! Let us hope as long as there is life. The day will come back, and the sun will shine out, and a vessel may heave in sight!”
“No, no! I can’t stand it!” cried the poor unhappy Dane. “I have no hope—none! Good-bye!”
On this, before Tom could prevent him, he cast off the lashings by which he was secured to the bulwarks, and, sliding down into the water, a roaring sea, as if exulting in its prize, carried him far away out of their sight.
“Oh, mates, this is very sad!” exclaimed Tom to his two younger companions.
“True, true,” said Harry. “Don’t you think, now, we could do something to try and save the vessel? If we were to cut away the starboard rigging, she might be freed from her masts and right herself.”
The suggestion was of a practical nature, and pleased Tom; and all three setting to work with their knives, with considerable labour cut through the shrouds. Scarcely were the last strands severed than the masts with a loud crack went by the board, and with a violent jerk the vessel righted.
“There, lads!” said Tom; “I told you things would mend, if we would but trust in Providence.”
Tom wished to encourage his companions, for the state of the vessel was only apparently a degree improved.
“Ah, now, if we had had the bo’sun and True Blue with us, and the poor fellows for’ard, we might have still done well. Howsomdever, daylight will come at last, and then we shall see better what to do.”
As he ceased speaking, Tim Fid uttered a loud cry. “Why,—oh, mercy!—there be their ghosts!” he exclaimed. “Paul and Billy! It can’t be them! They’ve been drowned this many an hour.”