three, and also the fate of the ten thousand dollars that "was safer in the old Wasdale than in the bank ashore." At length the captain wrapped the child in his reefer, and tossed her into the waiting boat with a warning shout. The mother was a wrenching weight to swing clear, but when she had followed, a cheer from the boat told him that she had been safely caught.
He wiped the sweat and mist from his purpling face, and muttered:
"I must safe life; I must safe life, my Flora, as long as she floats."
The Wasdale still floated, as if the old ship were prolonging the struggle in order that the master who loved her might yet save the fortune that meant so much to him. He picked up a life-preserver thrown aside on deck, slipped into it, and looked around him, now desperately bent on reaching the bridge, even though the ship should sink beneath him. Surely none else than he was left on board.
A blob of light flickered far aft on deck—a globe lamp such as the sailors had been working with. He saw it, and caught
