He called to his mate in the rigging of the other mast: "It is our last chance.

I will try! If I live, follow me; if I drown, stay where you are!" With a great effort he got off his stiffly frozen overcoat, paused for one moment in silent commendation of his soul to God, and, throwing himself into the waves, struck out for the shore.

Abigail Becker, breast-deep in the surf, awaited him.

He was almost within her reach, when the undertow swept him back.

By a mighty exertion she caught hold of him, bore him in her strong arms out of the water, and, laying him down by her fire, warmed his chilled blood with copious draughts of hot tea.