Shore folk think sailors are heartless, and that when a poor chap is lost overboard, they only say that `So-and-so has lost the number of his mess!' and, after having an auction over his kit in the fo'c's'le, then dismiss him from their memory! But, I assure you, this is not always the case.

You see, a ship is a sort of little world, and those on board are so closely bound together--getting to know each other so thoroughly from not having any others to associate with--that when one is taken away from amongst them, particularly by a violent death, his absence, cannot but be felt.

A sailor often misses even a messmate whom he may dislike.

How much the more, therefore, did we feel the loss of the whole boat's crew of the pinnace, every man of whom was almost as much a brother to me as you!" "I beg your pardon if I spoke thoughtlessly," said Fritz; "but I should have imagined that being in such imminent danger, you would not have had much time to mourn your lost comrades." "Nor did we," continued Eric, "so long as we had something to do, either in helping to bale the boat out or keeping her head to wind; but, when we began to run before the gale, the men stretched out in the bottom and along the stern-sheets, doing nothing,--for there was nothing for us to do,--we began to think of the poor fellows.

This was only for a short time, however, as presently we had a more serious consideration on our minds than even the fate of the others.