The departure—The sea—My companions—Some account of the wonderful sights we saw on
the great deep—A dreadful storm and a frightful wreck.
 IT was a bright, beautiful, warm day when our ship spread her canvas to the breeze, and sailed for
the regions of the south. Oh, how my heart bounded with delight as I listened to the merry chorus of
the sailors, while they hauled at the ropes and got in the anchor! The captain shouted; the men ran
to obey; the noble ship bent over to the breeze, and the shore gradually faded from my view, while I
stood looking on with a kind of feeling that the whole was a delightful dream.
The first thing that struck me as being different from anything I had yet seen during my short
career on the sea, was the hoisting of the anchor on deck and lashing it firmly down with ropes, as
if we had now bid adieu to the land for ever, and would require its services no more.
"There, lass," cried a broad-shouldered jack-tar, giving the fluke of the anchor a hearty slap with
his hand after the housing was completed—"there, lass, take a good nap now, for we shan't ask
you to kiss the mud again for many a long day to come!"
And so it was. That anchor did not "kiss the mud" for many long days afterwards; and when at last it
did, it was for the last time!
There were a number of boys in the ship, but two of them were my special favourites. Jack Martin was
 tall, strapping, broad-shouldered youth of eighteen, with a handsome, good-humoured, firm face. He
had had a good education, was clever and hearty and lion-like in his actions, but mild and quiet in
disposition. Jack was a general favourite, and had a peculiar fondness for me. My other companion
was Peterkin Gay. He was little, quick, funny, decidedly mischievous, and about fourteen years old.
But Peterkin's mischief was almost always harmless, else he could not have been so much beloved as
"Hallo, youngster!" cried Jack Martin, giving me a slap on the shoulder the day I joined the ship,
"come below, and I'll show you your berth. You and I are to be messmates, and I think we shall be
good friends, for I like the look o' you."
Jack was right. He and I, and Peterkin afterwards, became the best and staunchest friends that ever
tossed together on the stormy waves.
I shall say little about the first part of our voyage. We had the usual amount of rough weather and
calm; also we saw many strange fish rolling in the sea, and I was greatly delighted one day by
seeing a shoal of flying-fish dart out of the water and skim through the air about a foot above the
surface. They were pursued by dolphins, which feed on them, and one flying-fish in its terror flew
over the ship, struck on the rigging, and fell upon the deck. Its wings were just fins elongated,
and we found that they could never fly far at a time, and never mounted into the air like birds, but
skimmed along the surface of the sea. Jack and I had it for dinner, and found it remarkably good.
When we approached Cape Horn, at the southern extremity of America, the weather became very cold and
stormy, and the sailors began to tell stories about the furious gales and the dangers of that
 "Cape Horn," said one, "is the most horrible headland I ever doubled. I've sailed round it twice
already, and both times the ship was a'most blow'd out o' the water."
"I've been round it once," said another, "an' that time the sails were split, and the ropes frozen
in the blocks, so that they wouldn't work, and we wos all but lost."
"An' I've been round it five times," cried a third, "an' every time wos wuss than another, the gales
wos so tree-mendous!"
"And I've been round it no times at all," cried Peterkin, with an impudent wink in his eye, "an'
that time I wos blow'd inside out!"
Nevertheless, we passed the dreaded Cape without much rough weather, and, in the course of a few
weeks afterwards, were sailing gently before a warm, tropical breeze over the Pacific Ocean. Thus we
proceeded on our voyage, sometimes bounding merrily before a fair breeze, at other times floating
calmly on the glassy wave and fishing for the curious inhabitants of the deep—all of which,
although the sailors thought little of them, were strange, and interesting, and very wonderful to
At last we came among the Coral Islands of the Pacific, and I shall never forget the delight with
which I gazed—when we chanced to pass one—at the pure, white, dazzling shores, and the
verdant palm trees, which looked bright and beautiful in the sunshine. And often did we three long
to be landed on one, imagining that we should certainly find perfect happiness there! Our wish was
granted sooner than we expected.
STRUGGLING IN THE WILD SEAS.
One night, soon after we entered the tropics, an awful storm burst upon our ship. The first squall
of wind carried away two of our masts, and left only the foremast standing. Even this, however, was
more than enough, for we did not dare to hoist a rag of sail on it.
 For five days the tempest raged in all its fury. Everything was swept off the decks except one small
boat. The steersman was lashed to the wheel, lest he should be washed away, and we all gave
ourselves up for lost. The captain said that he had no idea where we were, as we had been blown far
out of our course; and we feared much that we might get among the dangerous coral reefs which are so
numerous in the Pacific. At daybreak on the sixth morning of the gale we saw land ahead. It was an
island encircled by a reef of coral on which the waves broke in fury. There was calm water within
this reef, but we could see only one narrow opening into it. For this opening we steered, but ere we
reached it a tremendous wave broke on our stern, tore the rudder completely off, and left us at the
mercy of the winds and waves.
"It's all over with us now, lads!" said the captain to the men. "Get the boat ready to launch; we
shall be on the rocks in less than half-an-hour."
The men obeyed in gloomy silence, for they felt that there was little hope of so small a boat living
in such a sea.
"Come, boys," said Jack Martin, in a grave tone, to me and Peterkin, as we stood on the quarter-deck
awaiting our fate—"come, boys; we three shall stick together. You see it is impossible that
the little boat can reach the shore, crowded with men. It will be sure to upset, so I mean rather to
trust myself to a large oar. I see through the telescope that the ship will strike at the tail of
the reef, where the waves break into the quiet water inside; so, if we manage to cling to the oar
till it is driven over the breakers, we may perhaps gain the shore. What say you? will you join me?"
We gladly agreed to follow Jack, for he inspired us with confidence, although I could perceive, by
 tone of his voice, that he had little hope; and, indeed, when I looked at the white waves that
lashed the reef and boiled against the rocks as if in fury, I felt that there was but a step between
us and death. My heart sank within me; but at that moment my thoughts turned to my beloved mother,
and I remembered those words, which were among the last that she said to me: "Ralph, my dearest
child, always remember in the hour of danger to look to your Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. He alone
is both able and willing to save your body and your soul." So I felt much comforted when I thought
The ship was now very near the rocks. The men were ready with the boat, and the captain beside them
giving orders, when a tremendous wave came towards us. We three ran towards the bow to lay hold of
our oar, and had barely reached it when the wave fell on the deck with a crash like thunder. At the
same moment the ship struck, the foremast broke off close to the deck and went over the side,
carrying the boat and men along with it. Our oar got entangled with the wreck, and Jack seized an
axe to cut it free, but, owing to the motion of the ship, he missed the cordage and struck the axe
deep into the oar. Another wave, however, washed it clear of the wreck. We all seized hold of it,
and the next instant we were struggling in the wild sea. The last thing I saw was the boat whirling
in the surf, and all the sailors tossed into the foaming waves. Then I became insensible.
On recovering from my swoon, I found myself lying on a bank of soft grass, under shelter of an
overhanging rock, with Peterkin on his knees by my side, tenderly bathing my temples with water, and
endeavouring to stop the blood that flowed from a wound in my forehead.