grave, as the night began to fall, and shut out
the white cliffs and desolate tracts of ice.

"Light it, Pennant," said the captain, "while
we kneel round and commit ourselves to Him
who never leaves the helm, though he may
seem to sometimes when the storm hides Him."

The fire crackled and spluttered; then it rose
in a thin wavering flame.

"Before this is burnt out, messmates, we shall
have started on another voyage, and pray God
we get safely to port. Now, then, load all the
muskets, and fire them at the third signal I give.
If there is any vessel within two miles of the
pack, they may perhaps hear us. One, two,
three."

The discharge of the five guns broke the ghastly
stillness with a crashing explosion, which seemed
to rebound and spread from cliff to cliff till
it faded far away in the northern solitudes, where
death only reigned in eternal silence, and amid
eternal snow.

"There goes our last hope," said the captain;
"but I am thankful I can still say, His will be
done; and I trust my children to His mercy."

"My wife don't need much praying for," said
the quartermaster. "She'll fight her way, I
bet."

Just then the purser, who had been staring at
the horizon, trying to pierce the gloom to the
right, leaped on his feet, shouted, screamed,
cried, embraced the captain, and danced and flung
up his hat.

Every one turned round and looked where he
was looking. There they saw a light sparkle, and
then a red light blaze up, and then a rocket
mount in a long tail of fire till it discharged a
nosegay of coloured stars. It was a ship
answering their light. Then came the booming
sound of a ship's gun. It was a vessel lying off
the pack, and they were saved.

An hour's walk (they were all strong enough
now) brought the captain and his men to the
vessel's side. The ship was only three miles
off along the shore, but the fog had hidden
it from them when they returned to lay down
and die.

As honest rough hands pressed theirs and
helped them up the vessel's side, and honest
brown faces smiled welcome, and food was held
out, and thirty sailors at once broke into a cheer
that scared the wolves on the opposite shore,
Captain Ritson said:

"Thank God, friends, for this kindness. I'm
a plain man, and I mean what I say: but my
heart's too full now to tell you all I feel. Purser,
I did lose hope just now, when I saw the raft
carried away."

One autumn afternoon, four months later,
three men entered Mr. Blizzard's office and
inquired for that gentleman.

"He is engaged just now," said a new clerk
(the rest had left), and pointing to an inner
glass door that stood ajar. "Engaged with
Captain Cardew, of the Morning Star; he sails
tomorrow for Belize. Take seats."

The muffled-up sailor-looking men took seats
near the half-open door, through which came
low words of talk.

"Ritson was too reckless," said a
disagreeable voice, "and quite lost his head in
danger."

"No doubt," said another voice. "Take
another glass of sherry, captain. Do you like a
dry wine?"

"The purser, too, was not very honest, I
fear, and very careless about the stores. By
-the-by, did I ever tell you about that drunken
quartermaster, Thompson, losing that ship of
yours, the Red Star, off the Malabar coast. He
had just returned from Quebec, so Pennant
told me, who sailed with him. He had been
sotting at Quebec, and, when the vessel was
ready to start, he said he wouldn't go. They
found him obstinate drunk. Will you believe
it, he remained drunk the whole voyage till
they came and told him he was near Glasgow.
Then he leaped up, shaved himself, put on his
best coat and a white tie, and went on shore to
see our agents, old Falconer and Johnson, fresh
as paint. Ha! ha!"

The other voice laughed too. It was Mr.
Blizzard, from his throne of large capital; he
was probably about to replace a ledger, and
consult the almanack, as he had done that
afternoon four months before.

"You must make a better voyage with the
Morning Star than Captain Ritson did with his
unfortunate vessel," said Mr. Blizzard. "Don't
be afraid of the sherry."

But Cardew never drank that glass of sherry,
for the door just then bursting open, dashed
the glass to pieces in his hand, and Captain
Ritson seized him by the throat.

"I'm a plain man, Mr. Blizzard, sir," he said,
"and I mean what I say; but if ever there
was a mutinous, thieving, lying, false, shark-
hearted scoundrel, it is this man who sunk the
Shooting Star, and left me and the purser, and
six more of us, to die off Labrador on the ice
pack. Purser! bring in that policeman, and
we'll have justice done."

At the next assizes, Cardew was sentenced
to nine years' transportation for frauds on the
house of David and Blizzard, and for conspiring
to sink the Shooting Star, and part of her crew,
off the coast of Labrador. A Liverpool paper,
a few months ago, mentioned that a bush-
ranger of the same name had been shot in an
encounter with the mounted police. As the
name is not a common one, the bushranger
and the mate were probably the same persons.

The firm tried the quartermaster with another
vessel, and he acquitted himself well; and as for
Ritson, he is now the most respected captain
in their service.

                       Just published,
          THE FOURTEENTH VOLUME,
             Price 5s. 6d., bound in cloth.