but it was impossible to do anything for her until the hurricane subsided.

Fortunately the worst of it had already passed, and a few moments later it ceased almost as suddenly as it commenced. The rain began to fall in torrents, while a fresh breeze and a tremendous sea were all that remained of the hurricane—for such it was, rather than an ordinary squall.

"Set the jib and mainsail, Mr. Terrill," said Captain Kendall. "We must endeavor to find that wreck."

These sails were accordingly hoisted, the Josephine came about, and stood off in the direction towards which the galiot was supposed to have drifted. The Young America had not been seen since the squall came up; but Paul conjectured that she had run away before it. He was deeply interested in the fate of those on board of the wreck, and trusted he should be able to render them some assistance, if all on board of her had not already perished.

The rain poured down furiously; but it did not dampen the enthusiasm of the young officers and crew, though they were already drenched to the skin. The reefed foresail was taken in, for it was found that the jib and mainsail were all the schooner needed. She stood on for an hour or more, without obtaining a sight of the wreck, though every eye on board was strained to catch the first glimpse of it.

"We must have passed her," said the captain.

"It is so thick we can't see her, even if we should go within half a mile of her."

"Come about, and stand a little more to the southward!" added Captain Kendall. "Let the fog-horns be blown. We may get a signal of some kind from them."

"I am afraid they were lost overboard; and that there is no one left to make a signal," answered Terrill, sadly.

The vessel was put about, and headed as indicated by the captain. The fog-horns were blown at intervals, and every one on board listened eagerly for a reply. These efforts were not unavailing, for a response was obtained after the Josephine had run half an hour on her present course. A hoarse shout was heard on the weather beam, which was unmistakably a cry of distress.

"Steady as she is!" said Paul to the executive officer, as soon as the sounds were reported to him, and the direction from which they came.

"Are you not going about, Captain Kendall?" asked Terrill, with a look of anxiety on his dripping face.

"Certainly; but if we go about here, we should fall to leeward of the wreck," replied Paul.

The Josephine stood on for a few moments longer, and then tacked.

"Blow the horns, and keep a sharp lookout forward," added the captain, who was quite as anxious as any other person on board; but he kept apparently cool, in deference to the dignity of his high office.

"I see her!" shouted Wheeler, the boatswain, who had gone out on the flying jib-boom.

"Where away is she?" demanded Martyn, from the forecastle.

"Well on the lee bow, sir."

"Are we headed for her?"

"Ay, ay, sir! We shall go clear of her to windward."

"Wreck on the lee bow, sir," reported the second lieutenant to Terrill, who in turn reported to the captain.

"Clear away the first cutter, Mr. Terrill," said Paul.

"All the first cutters, ahoy!" shouted the boatswain's mate.

"Mr. Pelham will have charge of the boat," added Captain Kendall, who had great confidence in the zeal and ability of this officer.

"The wreck! The wreck!" shouted all hands, as the disabled galiot came into view.

On the rail of the vessel, whose starboard half was completely submerged in the water, were two men, making violent gestures, and shouting to the crew of the Josephine. Not a word they said could be understood, but it was easy enough for Yankees to guess the meaning of their words. The schooner was thrown up into the wind, the jib lowered, and she lay to under the mainsail. Pelham and the crew of the first cutter took their places in the boat, and were lowered into the stormy sea. The falls were cast off the instant she struck the water; the coxswain gave his orders rapidly, and the cutter went off, rising and falling on the huge waves like a feather.

The distance was short; but even this was a hard pull in such a violent sea. Pelham was cool and steady, and his self-possession encouraged the crew to their best efforts. The boat ran up under the lee of the wreck, and made fast to one of the masts. As soon as it was secured, both of the men on the rail began to jabber in an unintelligible language.

"Parlez-vous français?" shouted Pelham, who had some knowledge of the polite language.

But the men made no response; and it was evident that no long speeches need be made on the present occasion. Pelham made signs to them to come down into the boat, which they did. They were not satisfied, but continued to talk in their own language, and to point earnestly to the after part of the wreck. One of them repeated a word so many times, that the officer of the boat was enabled at last to separate it from the confused jumble of sentences.

"Vrow?" said he.

The man nodded earnestly, and pointed with redoubled vigor to the after part of the galiot.

Vrow means wife; and Pelham concluded that the skipper's lady was in the cabin, but whether dead or alive he did not know.