“De good Lord be praised, massa! but dis am de most curous ob all sea-ve’cles that eber trabers de great waters!  I sure it must be a speint from de great scripture ark massa read about in de good book; or may be it am one ob those old-time chariots, fiery chariots, we sings about; only it so moist around here, it put de fire all out and leabe de chariot.  Or I tink it may be one ob dose machines Bingo used to see in old slabe-massa’s church, hung up ober de minister’s head, to make de good psalms or de prayers go de right way, and I don’t remember which; old Bingo always retained a bery bad memory, eber since before he was a child; but I tink dey used to call it a sound board, though it was full ob cracks.”

Ah! poor fellow, had you seen that heart-rending look of despair, mingled with sweet resignation, upon the face of that mother! had you seen the glistening tear in the eye of that noble father, as, but a few hours before, they consigned their idolized child to the mercies of the deep; had you heard that prayer to God, if it might be his will, to spare their darling from an ocean-grave, your great heart would have been, if possible, kindled to a greater love for that helpless little one!

Captain Grosvenor, after having carefully taken the child from the grotesque looking craft, which had proved so trustworthy a sailor, and wiped the drops of spray from its little face, wrapped it in a large bandana, and gave it to the faithful Vingo, while he took his glass and scanned the distant horizon; for well did he know, though even at noon-day, that one more unfortunate bark had gone down near that dread “Nantucket shoal,” upon which so many noble hearts have found a watery grave.  “I see nothing,” said the Captain, “nothing, not even a passing sail; which is quite uncommon at this season, when so many vessels are constantly passing and repassing our island; not even the light-boat do I see, which is probably owing to a fog coming in from the sea, as yet imperceptible to us here.  Poor fellows!  I fear they have gone down without a soul to help them!  It seems hard when there are so many stout hearts and ready arms here, willing to risk their lives in the attempt to save.  Those shoals, Vingo, are the only unkind thing there is about our cherished island; but the will of God be done.  Truly his ways are unsearchable.”

“Den you tinks, massa, dis little sea-flower was left here trough mistake, by de Lord?”

“It most assuredly was left here by the Lord, Vingo, but not by mistake.  The fact is, my boy, there has been a wreck off to the east south-east of the island; probably some vessel has mistaken her bearings, or, being unacquainted with the coast, has run on to the shoals and gone to pieces; and this infant was made fast to the first floatable object that could be found, and with a mother’s dying prayer for a rudder, and the hand of Him who guides us all at the helm, she has come to us here; and with eyes of heaven’s own blue, she silently asks for that protection which shall not be withheld from her so long as it shall be within my power to give.  And now, Vingo, boy, you may turn the horse’s head for the town.”