All vanity had been killed in him from the moment he found himself in actual peril. It made him sick at heart to remember the satisfaction he had so lately felt in his new clothes. He no longer drew the watch proudly from his pocket; hardly once did he glance downward at the big seal and gold guard hooked in the button-hole of his vest--a hated sight to him now.

When all hope of reaching the shore against such a wind was gone, he still struggled to keep the dory within hailing distance of the yacht, when it should come beating up from the northeast. But no yacht hove in sight; and if it passed, it must have been under the shadow of the shore. Clouds closed again over the one bright star and the patch of silver light in the west. The utter desolation of night lay about him on the lonely, weltering waters. All along the coast now he could see occasional lights--the lights in happy dwellings; but on the seaward side, only a faint gleam showed the line where sky and ocean met. There were no sounds but the ceaseless turmoil of the billows, the frequent slapping of a wave under the flat-bottomed boat, and his own fitful sobs.

St. Nicholas v. 13 No. 9 July 1886 — Part 66

His last hope lay in crossing the track of some coaster or fishing-craft that might pick him up. But could that occur before morning? And could he expect that his ill-managed dory would ride safely all night on the increasing waves? The strong wind off shore, meeting the ocean swells, was blowing up a heavy chop-sea that threatened a new danger. What a night was before him, at the best!

St. Nicholas v. 13 No. 9 July 1886 — Part 66

Suddenly his hat blew off, and disappeared immediately on the black waves.

St. Nicholas v. 13 No. 9 July 1886 — Part 66

The distant sails he had seen at first had vanished as the swift night shut down; but now he discerned two dim lights in different directions, evidently far away.

He was gazing after them, and looking anxiously for nearer lights or sails, when he was aware of a low, dark object just before him, rising from the deep. What could it be?--with something white flashing upon it! And what was the sound he heard?

"The Cow and Calf!" he exclaimed, with sudden excitement, almost as if he had seen a friend.

"The Old Cow" and "The Calf" are two enormous ledges lying not far asunder, within sight from the coast in clear weather. "The Cow" is never completely submerged; her bare brown back appears above the highest tides.