The Brenda was scudding along with all sail set to catch the risingwind, and everyone on board was rejoicing, for the long voyage wasdrawing towards an end.

'Four weeks more, Mrs Hardy, and we'll give you a cup of tea such asyou never had before,' said second mate Hoffmann, as he paused besidetwo ladies sitting in a sheltered corner of the deck.

'I shall be glad to get it, and still gladder to put my feet on solidground,' answered the elder lady, smiling; for our friend Emil was afavourite, as well he might be, since he devoted himself to thecaptain's wife and daughter, who were the only passengers on board.

'So shall I, even if I have to wear a pair of shoes like Chinesejunks. I've tramped up and down the deck so much, I shall bebarefooted if we don't arrive soon,' laughed Mary, the daughter,showing two shabby little boots as she glanced up at the companion ofthese tramps, remembering gratefully how pleasant he had made them.

'Don't think there are any small enough in China,' answered Emil,with a sailor's ready gallantry, privately resolving to hunt up thehandsomest shoes he could find the moment he landed.

'I don't know what you would have done for exercise, dear, if MrHoffmann had not made you walk every day. This lazy life is bad foryoung people, though it suits an old body like me well enough in calmweather. Is this likely to be a gale, think ye?' added Mrs Hardy,with an anxious glance at the west, where the sun was setting redly.

'Only a capful of wind, ma'am, just enough to send us along lively,'answered Emil, with a comprehensive glance aloft and alow.

'Please sing, Mr Hoffmann, it's so pleasant to have music at thistime. We shall miss it very much when we get ashore,' said Mary, in apersuasive tone which would have won melody from a shark, if such athing were possible.

Emil had often blessed his one accomplishment during these months,for it cheered the long days, and made the twilight hour his happiesttime, wind and weather permitting. So now he gladly tuned his pipe,and leaning on the taffrail near the girl, watched the brown locksblowing in the wind as he sang her favourite song:

Just as the last notes of the clear, strong voice died away, MrsHardy suddenly exclaimed: 'What's that?' Emil's quick eye saw at oncethe little puff of smoke coming up a hatchway where no smoke shouldbe, and his heart seemed to stand still for an instant as the dreadword 'Fire!' flashed through his mind. Then he was quite steady, andstrolled away saying quietly:

'Smoking not allowed there, I'll go and stop it.' But the instant hewas out of sight his face changed, and he leaped down the hatchway,thinking, with a queer smile on his lips: 'If we are afire, shouldn'twonder if I did make a coral bed my grave!'

He was gone a few minutes, and when he came up, half stifled withsmoke, he was as white as a very brown man could be, but calm andcool as he went to report to the captain.

'Fire in the hold, sir.'

'Don't frighten the women,' was Captain Hardy's first order; thenboth be stirred themselves to discover how strong the treacherousenemy was, and to rout it if possible.

The Brenda's cargo was a very combustible one, and in spite of thestreams of water poured into the hold it was soon evident that theship was doomed. Smoke began to ooze up between the plankseverywhere, and the rising gale soon fanned the smouldering fire toflames that began to break out here and there, telling the dreadfultruth too plainly for anyone to hide. Mrs Hardy and Mary bore theshock bravely when told to be ready to quit the ship at a minute'snotice; the boats were hastily prepared, and the men worked with awill to batten down every loophole whence the fire might escape. Soonthe poor Brenda was a floating furnace, and the order to 'Take to theboats!' came for all. The women first, of course, and it wasfortunate that, being a merchantman, there were no more passengers onboard, so there was no panic, and one after the other the boatspushed off. That in which the women were lingered near, for the bravecaptain would be the last to leave his ship.

Emil stayed by him till ordered away, and reluctantly obeyed; but itwas well for him he went, for just as he had regained the boat,rocking far below, half hidden by a cloud of smoke, a mast,undermined by the fire now raging in the bowels of the ship, fellwith a crash, knocking Captain Hardy overboard. The boat soon reachedhim as he floated out from the wreck, and Emil sprung into the sea torescue him, for he was wounded and senseless. This accident made itnecessary for the young man to take command, and he at once orderedthe men to pull for their lives, as an explosion might occur at anymoment.

The other boats were out of danger and all lingered to watch thesplendid yet awesome spectacle of the burning ship alone on the widesea, reddening the night and casting a lurid glare upon the water,where floated the frail boats filled with pale faces, all turned fora last look at the fated Brenda, slowly settling to her watery grave.No one saw the end, however, for the gale soon swept the watchers faraway and separated them, some never to meet again till the sea givesup its dead.

The boat whose fortunes we must follow was alone when dawn came up,showing these survivors all the dangers of their situation. Food andwater had been put in, and such provision for comfort and safety astime allowed; but it was evident that with a badly wounded man, twowomen, and seven sailors, their supply would not last long, and helpwas sorely needed. Their only hope was in meeting a ship, althoughthe gale, which had raged all night, had blown them out of theircourse. To this hope all clung, and wiled away the weary hours,watching the horizon and cheering one another with prophecies ofspeedy rescue.

Second mate Hoffmann was very brave and helpful, though hisunexpected responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders; for thecaptain's state seemed desperate, the poor wife's grief wrung hisheart, and the blind confidence of the young girl in his power tosave them made him feel that no sign of doubt or fear must lessen it.The men did their part readily now, but Emil knew that if starvationand despair made brutes of them, his task might be a terrible one. Sohe clutched his courage with both handg, kept up a manly front, andspoke so cheerily of their good chances, that all instinctivelyturned to him for guidance and support.

The first day and night passed in comparative comfort, but when thethird came, things looked dark and hope began to fail. The woundedman was delirious, the wife worn out with anxiety and suspense, thegirl weak for want of food, having put away half her biscuit for hermother, and given her share of water to wet her father's feverishlips. The sailors ceased rowing and sat grimly waiting, openlyreproaching their leader for not following their advice, othersdemanding more food, all waxing dangerous as privation and painbrought out the animal instincts lurking in them. Emil did his best,but mortal man was helpless there, and he could only turn his haggardface from the pitiless sky, that dropped no rain for their thirst, tothe boundless sea where no sail appeared to gladden their longingeyes. All day he tried to cheer and comfort them, while hungergnawed, thirst parched, and growing fear lay heavy at his heart. Hetold stories to the men, implored them to bear up for the helplesswomen's sake, and promised rewards if they would pull while they hadstrength to regain the lost route, as nearly as he could make it out,and increase their chance of rescue. He rigged an awning ofsailcloth over the suffering man and tended him like a son, comfortedthe wife, and tried to make the pale girl forget herself, by singingevery song he knew or recounting his adventures by land and sea, tillshe smiled and took heart; for all ended well.

The fourth day came and the supply of food and water was nearly gone.Emil proposed to keep it for the sick man and the women, but two ofthe men rebelled, demanding their share. Emil gave up his as anexample, and several of the good fellows followed it, with the quietheroism which so often crops up in rough but manly natures. Thisshamed the others, and for another day an ominous peace reigned inthat little world of suffering and suspense. But during the night,while Emil, worn out with fatigue, left the watch to the mosttrustworthy sailor, that he might snatch an hour's rest, these twomen got at the stores and stole the last of the bread and water, andthe one bottle of brandy, which was carefully hoarded to keep uptheir strength and make the brackish water drinkable. Half mad withthirst, they drank greedily and by morning one was in a stupor, fromwhich he never woke; the other so crazed by the strong stimulant,that when Emil tried to control him, he leaped overboard and waslost. Horror-stricken by this terrible scene, the other men weresubmissive henceforth, and the boat floated on and on with its sadfreight of suffering souls and bodies.

Another trial came to them that left all more despairing than before.A sail appeared, and for a time a frenzy of joy prevailed, to beturned to bitterest disappointment when it passed by, too far away tosee the signals waved to them or hear the frantic cries for help thatrang across the sea. Emil's heart sank then, for the captain seemeddying, and the women could not hold out much longer. He kept up tillnight came; then in the darkness, broken only by the feeble murmuringof the sick man, the whispered prayers of the poor wife, theceaseless swash of waves, Emil hid his face, and had an hour ofsilent agony that aged him more than years of happy life could havedone. It was not the physical hardship that daunted him, though wantand weakness tortured him; it was his dreadful powerlessness toconquer the cruel fate that seemed hanging over them. The men hecared little for, since these perils were but a part of the life theychose; but the master he loved, the good woman who had been so kindto him, the sweet girl whose winsome presence had made the longvoyage so pleasant for them all - if he could only save these dear andinnocent creatures from a cruel death, he felt that he couldwillingly give his life for them.

As he sat there with his head in his hands, bowed down by the firstgreat trial of his young life, the starless sky overhead, therestless sea beneath, and all around him suffering, for which he hadno help, a soft sound broke the silence, and he listened like one ina dream. It was Mary singing to her mother, who lay sobbing in herarms, spent with this long anguish. A very faint and broken voice itwas, for the poor girl's lips were parched with thirst; but theloving heart turned instinctively to the great Helper in this hour ofdespair, and He heard her feeble cry. It was a sweet old hynm oftensung at Plumfield; and as he listened, all the happy past came backso clearly that Emil forgot the bitter present, and was at homeagain. His talk on the housetop with Aunt Jo seemed but yesterday,and, with a pang of self-reproach, he thought:

'The scarlet strand! I must remember it, and do my duty to the end.Steer straight, old boy; and if you can't come into port, go downwith all sail set.'

Then, as the soft voice crooned on to lull the weary woman to afitful sleep, Emil for a little while forgot his burden in a dream ofPlumfield. He saw them all, heard the familiar voices, felt the gripof welcoming hands, and seemed to say to himself: 'Well, they shallnot be ashamed of me if I never see them any more.'

A sudden shout startled him from that brief rest, and a drop on hisforehead told him that the blessed rain had come at last, bringingsalvation with it; for thirst is harder to bear than hunger, heat, orcold. Welcomed by cries of joy, all lifted up their parched lips,held out their hands, and spread their garments to catch the greatdrops that soon came pouring down to cool the sick man's fever,quench the agony of thirst, and bring refreshment to every weary bodyin the boat. All night it fell, all night the castaways revelled inthe saving shower, and took heart again, like dying plants revived byheaven's dew. The clouds broke away at dawn, and Emil sprung up,wonderfully braced and cheered by those hours of silent gratitude forthis answer to their cry for help. But this was not all; as his eyeswept the horizon, clear against the rosy sky shone the white sailsof a ship, so near that they could see the pennon at her mast-headand black figures moving on the deck.

One cry broke from all those eager throats, and rang across the sea,as every man waved hat or handkerchief and the women stretchedimploring hands towards this great white angel of deliverance comingdown upon them as if the fresh wind filled every sail to help her on.

No disappointment now; answering signals assured them of help; and inthe rapture of that moment the happy women fell on Emil's neck,giving him his reward in tears and blessings as their grateful heartsoverflowed. He always said that was the proudest moment of his life,as he stood there holding Mary in his arms; for the brave girl, whohad kept up so long, broke down then, and clung to him half fainting;while her mother busied herself about the invalid, who seemed to feelthe joyful stir, and gave an order, as if again on the deck of hislost ship.

It was soon over; and then all were safely aboard the good Urania,homeward bound. Emil saw his friends in tender hands, his men amongtheir mates, and told the story of the wreck before he thought ofhimself. The savoury odour of the soup, carried by to the cabin forthe ladies, reminded him that he was starving, and a sudden staggerbetrayed his weakness. He was instantly borne away, to be half killedby kindness, and being fed, clothed, and comforted, was left to rest.Just as the surgeon left the state-room, he asked in his brokenvoice: 'What day is this? My head is so confused, I've lost myreckoning.'

'Thanksgiving Day, man! And we'll give you a regular New Englanddinner, if you'll eat it,' answered the surgeon heartily.

But Emil was too spent to do anything, except lie still and givethanks, more fervently and gratefully than ever before, for theblessed gift of life, which was the sweeter for a sense of dutyfaithfully performed.