The boy called to the men,
asking what was to be done; but they in terror could do nothing but
lament their situation, calling out against the captain for leaving them
in such a state. Harry hesitated; what was done must be done speedily.
To take in sail was his first thought; then, with the assistance of the
clumsy seamen, he rolled out a small cannon-piece, and for one long hour
did he keep up an incessant fire. The coming storm was now plainly
discernible; the distant rolling of thunder was heard, the sea was
agitated, and occasionally a flaw would shake the rattlings. They were
in momentary expectation that the storm would burst upon them. Harry had
left his firing, and ascending the hurricane deck, stood with folded
arms, as if bracing himself to meet the foe. It is coming in all its
fury! kind heaven! the fog lifts! it rolls itself away as it were a
great scroll. The ink-black heavens are fearfully majestic, seen in the
lightning's lurid glare. A speck! yes, 't is the boats! do they see
them? Once more the boy flies to the cannon, not pausing to see if they
are nearing the ship; his heart beats wildly; 'tis their only chance for
life! the hurricane has burst upon them! the enraged deep responds
loudly to the deafening roar! Once again the feeble voice of the cannon
is doing its best to be heard, when lo! the flash mingling with the
forked lightnings which play in the rigging, reveals the men, as they
come tumbling over the ship's side! They are saved! saved by that noble
boy, who does not know of their approach, so intent is he upon his
exertions, until Sampson clasps him in his arms, and a "God bless you!"
is upon the lips of every man, save the captain, who, having received a
slight wound from a harpoon, and irritated by their bad luck, utters a
curse which vies in blackness with that dreadful night.
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