On this fresh outburst of the storm, Wood threw himself instinctively into the bottom of the boat, and clasping the little orphan to his breast, endeavoured to prepare himself to meet his fate. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. "Not a syllable!" answered the carpenter, angrily. He refused his food,—and even when better provisions were offered him, rejected them. When the bell rang, she lagged behind as was her habit.
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