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this sea, were the two to meet, both would most certainly go down.”

The Old One looked about and nodded. ‘‘True,” said he. “There is no recovering the boat and darkness is upon us. Let us go as near to the ship as we may and bid them have courage till morning, when, God willing, we shall try to get aboard and save them.”

“That we will. And I myself will con the ship.”

Leaning over the rail, Tom Jordan, the Old One, called out, ‘‘Holla, my hearts! The boat hath gone adrift with her sides stove; but do you make a raft and keep abroad a light until morning, when God helping us, we will endeavor to get you aboard.”

Perceiving for the first time that the boat was gone and there was no recovering her, those left on board the wreck gave a cry so sad that it pierced the hearts of all in the Rose of Devon, whose men saw them through the dusk doing what they could to save themselves; and presently their light appeared.

Working the Rose of Devon to windward of the wreck, Captain Candle lay by, but all his endeavours could not avail to help them, for about ten o’clock at night, three hours after the Old One and his ten men had got on board the Rose of Devon, their ship sank and their light went out and seven men lost their lives.

The Old One, standing beside Captain Candle, had watched the light to the last. "It is a bitter grief to bear,” he said, ‘‘for they were seven brave men. A master could desire no better mariners. ’T is the end of the Blue Friggat from Virginia, bound for Portsmouth, wanting seven weeks.”

“A man can go many years to sea without meeting such a storm.”