"Eight and forty hours more, Mr. Higgins! Yes, sir, eight and forty hours more - keepin' her as she's going - and we have the land off Bahia." Captain Bottom gave his head a significant shake as he spoke. "Using judgment, you see; not books, Mr. Higgins. Captain Price Bottom has sailed seventeen years, and never was deceived by that chart. Don't make charts now as they used to make 'em, Mr. Higgins," he concluded, shrugging his shoulders.

The wind now came over the sea roaring like a fierce lion, indicating the rapid approach of the gale.

"If we make land off Bahia in forty-eight hours, then I'm mistaken," rejoined the first officer, satirically. "There's something coming that will give us enough to do before morning."

The words had hardly escaped his lips when the full force of the gale struck the ship, roaring and shrieking through her shrouds, and nearly throwing her on her beam ends. The sea was soon lashed into a tempest, and made a clean sweep over her decks. The canvas was carried clean from the bolt-ropes, the sheets were let go, and the lighter sails clewed up, and an attempt made to get the ship's head to the wind and lay her to. But the mizzen-sails were all gone, and she fell off, and refused to obey her helm. The lashings had given way, and the larboard, waist, and quarter boats were all swept from the davits, the frames sprung, and every timber in the good ship's hull worked, and strained, and complained, like a frail thing that must soon go to pieces. Every order, however, was obeyed promptly and cheerfully, for both officers and crew felt that their lives, as well as the saving of the ship, depended on the way in which each man performed his duty.

Just before the gale came up five young men, including Tite, might have been seen grouped together in the waist of the ship, pondering over a chart. Several books and nautical instruments were lying around. They were all, except Tite, young men of wealthy parents, who had joined the ship to enjoy the excitements of a whaling voyage. These young men, with Tite, had formed a school of instruction, and every evening got together in the same place to improve their knowledge in practical navigation. One of them, a young man who had endeared himself to all on board by his courage and the gentleness of his manners, was third mate, and took a leading part in instructing the others. It would, indeed, have been difficult to find two young men whose characters bore a stronger resemblance than his and Tite's. Between them there grew up the strongest friendship.

The ship was now laboring in the trough of the sea, when a loud crash was heard aloft. The fore, main, and mizzen top-gallant masts had gone in rapid succession, and the swaying mass of wreck was threatening the destruction of the ship. Death now stared every one in the face. There was no hope of saving the ship and the lives of those on board, except in the strength and courage of those willing to go aloft and clear away the wreck. But who was there to do this perilous work?

Amidst the confusion caused by the excited elements there was the sturdy little captain, calm and cool, and giving his orders with that clearness and decision which had always characterized him. Men were called for to go aloft and cut away the swaying wreck, and save the ship. The first to obey this summons was young Tite Toodleburg, whose example was followed by the young man I have described as third mate, and one of his companions. They mounted the fore, main, and mizzen rigging, and working with all their strength and skill soon had the swaying wreck cut away, and the ship relieved of her strain. But in descending, the third mate, who had so gallantly performed his duty, lost his hold, and the ship giving a terrible lurch, he was plunged into the sea, and seen no more.