old brigantine, Falcon.
This offer the little chap had eagerly accepted, for he believed he must be of American birth, and somehow longed to set foot on that land far across the sea.
Some years had passed.
Darry knew no other home save the friendly cabin of the brigantine, and since he had no knowledge as to what his name might be, by degrees he came to assume that of his benefactor.
During these years the boy had seen much of the world, and learned many things under the guidance of the warm-hearted captain.
Of course he spent many bitter hours in vain regrets over the fact that there was so little chance of his ever learning his identity--only a slender link seemed to connect him with that mysterious past that was hidden from his sight; and this was a curious little scar upon his right arm just below the elbow.
It looked like a crescent moon, and had been there ever since he could remember.
This fact caused Darry to believe it might be the result of some accident that must have occurred while he was yet a baby.
If such were the case then some people, somewhere, would be apt to recognize this peculiar mark if they ever saw it again.
Captain Harley had always encouraged him in the belief that some happy day he would surely know the truth.
Just now, however, it really looked as though Darry need no longer allow himself to feel any anxiety on that score.
The ocean depths would offer just as easy a resting place to a nameless waif as to a crowned monarch.
When the great waves broke over the drifting vessel the rush of water must have swept him away, only that he had been wise enough to lash himself to the stump of the mizzen-mast.
During a little lull in the tempest someone joined him, also using the whipping rope-ends to secure his hold.
Darry saw by the aid of the darting lightning that it was his good friend, the captain; and with his thoughts still taken up with the peril of his situation he repeated the question that only the mocking winds had heard before:
"Will we ever weather this storm, captain?"
"I fear not, my lad," replied the master of the ship, sadly, "the poor old hulk is now only a plaything for the elements. It looks as though the Falcon had reached the end of her voyaging at last. Twenty years have I commanded her. I have a feeling that if so be she goes down I will not survive her."
The roar of the gale was such that it became necessary to shout at times, in order to make one's self heard above the elements.
"Are we near the coast?" asked the boy, anxiously; for he knew that such a thing must double their danger.
"I am afraid it is only too true, though the storm has been so prolonged that I have long ago lost my reckoning," replied the mariner.
"But you told me these coasts are patrolled by brave life savers, who always stand ready to risk everything in case a vessel is driven on the reefs?" continued the boy, trying to see a gleam of hope through the gloom.
"That is true, but alas! I am afraid even the bravest of men would find themselves helpless in such a terrific blow as this."
"But, captain, surely you have not given up all hope?" anxiously demanded Darry, trying to face the terrible prospect with a brave heart.
"I never do that, lad. But one of us may not live to reach the shore; and since it is so, I wanted to have a few last words with you, and then I must return to my duty, which is to try and steer this drifting hulk until the end comes."
He reached out his hand.
The boy eagerly clutched it, and there, as the lightning flashed, he looked into the kind face of his benefactor.
Something seemed to tell him that it was the last time he would ever feel the pressure of that friendly hand, and this thought alarmed him as the storm had thus far been unable to do.
"Listen, and take heed, my lad," said the skipper, earnestly, "it may be that Providence will shield you through this time of trouble, and that you shall reach the shore in safety after all. Should ill befall me I want you to write my old mother up in York State--you know where she lives. I have made all preparations, so that she will be provided for, and my sister also. Do you understand me?"
"Oh! yes, sir! But I hope we may both pull through!" cried the boy, earnestly.
"So do I, for life is sweet; but it may not be. Now, lad, about yourself, and I am done. Remember all that I have taught you. Then you will grow up
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