Summary

Portrait of William Henry Giles Kingston William Henry Giles Kingston Salt Water: The Sea Life and Adventures of Neil D'Arcy the Midshipman

As it was, her deck and upper works leaked in every direction; and we all felt that such, even now, might be our fate. I shall never forget the anxiety of that first night, as, amid the raging seas, with the gale howling round us, our near sinking ship, battered and dismasted, ran through the darkness, every sea, as, foam-crested, it came rolling up astern, threatening to overwhelm us. Who but fools would not, on such occasions, feel the utter helplessness of their own arm to help them, or would fail to put their trust alone in Him who is all-powerful to save.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of William Henry Giles Kingston William Henry Giles Kingston Salt Water: The Sea Life and Adventures of Neil D'Arcy the Midshipman

The people sprang to the halyards and brails; but before all the sail could be taken off the vessel, the squall had struck her. Over she went on her beam-ends. A cry of terror was heard above the roar of the wind in the rigging, and the rattling of ropes and blocks, and the dash of the surging waves. The water almost reached the combings of the hatches: everybody on deck thought we were gone. Two of the men were washed overboard. Watson, who was aft, hove one of them a rope. He seized it with convulsive energy: his life, dear to the meanest, depended on the firmness of his grasp.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of William Henry Giles Kingston William Henry Giles Kingston Salt Water: The Sea Life and Adventures of Neil D'Arcy the Midshipman

I know you of old. It’s little you care for the life of a fellow-creature. Where is he, I say? I left him on deck sound and well, as fine a lad as ever stepped. How could he have gone overboard? He hadn’t touched a drop; he was as sober as any one of you; but I know how it was, you chased him and he wouldn’t give in—he stood at the helm like a man; so you, you cowardly hounds, shot him down as if he were a brute. There’s his blood on the deck—the brave lad’s blood, and you dabbling your feet in it—you, his murderers,—and laughing at me, his father.
Source: Gutenberg

Get perspective with Kwize: daily news enlightened by great literature