Chapter 26

"At the piping of all hands,
When the judgment signal's spread--
When the islands and the lands,
And the seas give up the dead,
And the south and the north shall come;
When the sinner is dismay'd,
And the just man is afraid,
Then heaven be thy aid,
Poor _Tom_.'"
BRAINARD.

The two ships, in the haste of their respective crews to get clear of
each other, were now running in the troughs; and the same idea would
seem to have suggested itself to me and the other master, at the same
instant. Instead of endeavouring to keep away again, one kept his helm
hard a-port, the other as hard a-starboard, until we both came by the
wind, though on opposite tacks. The Englishman set his mizen-stay-sail,
and though he made bad weather of it, he evidently ran much less risk
than in scudding. The seas came on board him constantly; but not in a
way to do any material damage. As for the Dawn, she lay-to, like a
duck, under bare poles. I had a spare stay-sail, stopped up in her
mizen-rigging, from the top down, and after that the ship was both
easy and dry. Once in a while, it is true, her bows would meet some
fellow heavier than common, and then we got a few hogsheads of water
forward; but it went out to leeward as fast as it came in to
windward. At the turn of the day, however, the gale broke, and the
weather moderated sensibly; both sea and wind beginning to go down.

Had we been alone, I should not have hesitated about bearing up,
getting some sail on the ship, and running off on my course, again;
but, the desire to speak the stranger, and have some communication
with Marble, was so strong, that I could not make up my mind to do
so. Including myself, Talcott, Neb, the cabin-steward, and six of the
people forward, there were ten of us on board, who knew the ex-mate;
and, of the whole ten, there was not a dissenting voice concerning his
identity. I determined, therefore, to stick by the Englishman, and at
least have some communication with my old friend. As for myself, I own
I loved Marble, uncouth and peculiar as he sometimes was. I owed him
more than any other man living, Mr. Hardinge excepted; for he had made
me a seaman, having been of use to me professionally, in a hundred
ways. Then we had seen so much in company, that I regarded him as a
portion of my experience, and as, in some measure, identified with my
own nautical career.

I was afraid at one moment, that the Englishman intended to remain as
he was, all night; but, about an hour before sunset, I had the
gratification to see him set his fore-sail, and keep off. I had wore
round, two hours before, to get the Dawn's head on the same tack with
him, and followed under bare poles. As the stranger soon set his