wreck, and presently, dropping into the full strength of the wind, were swept onward like an arrow, with scarce the least use of any other oar than that in the hands of our stalwart steersman.  Speedily crossing the outer waters, we leaped and bounded over the breakers; and when old Bill, as we were rushing along the inlet, gave orders for the hoisting of the sail, we not only hastened to obey him, but immediately saw an all-important reason for the command.  For we were now about entering the ice of the sounds; and as the boat flew in its midst, her stiff, tight sail drove her through the stubborn obstruction as easily and in much the same manner as the steam plow rips up the matted bosom of the prairies.  In due season we reached the landing where we usually disembarked from the sounds, and where we found a wagon awaiting us, to which we bore our sad freightage, and led the way for old Bill’s house.  On arriving, we laid the corpse in an outbuilding and carried the sailors into a bedroom.  But what was to be next done?  To tell the truth, most of us knew no more than so many children.  But here our leader again showed his knowledge.  Strongly condemning the lighting of a fire in the apartment,—­which some one was about to do,—­he set us busily at work bringing him a good supply of tubs, and buckets of cold water, into which he dipped the naked persons of the sufferers; and as this treatment, combined with a patient, gentle chafing, which was also administered, at last restored the flow of their vital forces, he gave them a few spoonfuls of broth apiece, and, while they looked a gratefulness they could nowise express, lifted them like babes with his giant arms to warm beds, where they fell into what was at first a fitful, broken slumber, but finally a childlike, placid sleep.  They were saved!

If the reader is now curious to know why a man like old Bill was not a patrician and captain in the campaign of life, rather than the mere private and plebeian he was, I can answer that there were several things which impeded that consummation.  His character, though of wonderful height and force in some respects, was, after all, without true discipline, and presented many glaring incongruities.  Thus, whatever he had of what could really be named ambition was satisfied when he had surprised us ‘soundsers;’ and our praise—­and we lavished it upon him in full measure, as we knew he liked it—­was all the praise he seemed to desire.  Then, he was altogether one of us in his notions of pleasure and recreation.  Like the rest of us, he cordially appreciated the sparkling product of the New England distilleries, and far more than any of us—­to such a pitch did his animal spirits rule—­he relished our broad sea-side jokes and songs, and as well our rattling jigs and hornpipes.  As for others attempting to elevate him to a more exalted station, the thing was simply impossible.  When led of his own accord to seek other society than ours, he could by no means content himself with the companionship