the drifting ice—­borne away with the tide toward the mouth of the river—­not able to see two yards before us, or likely to be seen by any one, so as to be assisted.  We were too cold to speak, but remained in silence, looking at each other, and with no pleasant forebodings as to our fate.  The ice now formed in large masses; the icicles hung from our clothes and all sense was lost in our extremities.  It was now dark as pitch; and so feeble were we that it was with difficulty we could keep in our positions.  At last the storm abated, the sky cleared up, and the bright full moon shone in the heavens; but our case appeared hopeless—­we felt that before morning we must perish.  I tried to say what prayers I had learned by hearing my sister say them; but my teeth chattered, and I could only think them.  At last I perceived a vessel at anchor:  the tide was sweeping us past—­we were close to her, and I contrived to cry out; but there was no reply.  Again I screamed, but it was in vain.  They were all in their warm beds, while we floated past, freezing to death.  My hopes, which had been raised, and which had occasioned my heart to resume its beating, now sank down again, and I gave myself up in despair.  I burst into tears; and, before the tears had rolled half-way down my cheeks, they had frozen hard.  “I am indeed ‘Poor Jack,’ now,” thought I; “I shall never see my father or Virginia any more.”  As I thought so, I saw another vessel ahead of us.  I summoned all my strength, and called out long before we floated past her.  The light wind bore my voice down; there was a man on deck, and he heard it; he walked forward, and I perceived him looking over the bows.  I hallooed again, to direct his attention to where we were; for our wherry was so encrusted with ice that she might have been taken for a larger piece floating by.  I saw him turn away, and heard him thump with a handspike on the deck.  How my heart bounded!  I almost felt warm.  As we were passing the vessel, I cried out again and again, and the man answered me—­

“Ay, ay, hold on for a minute or two, and I’ll send for you.”

[Illustration:  I SUMMONED ALL MY STRENGTH, AND CALLED OUT LONG BEFORE WE FLOATED PAST HER.—­Marryat, Vol.  X., p. 73.]

“We are saved,” I cried to the waterman; but he was quite insensible, apparently frozen stiff where he was clinging.  In a few minutes I heard the sound of oars, and then they stopped; the boat came quietly alongside, that they might not by the shock throw us off into the water; they dragged us both in, and took us on board, poured a glass of brandy down our throats, stripped off our frozen clothes, chafed our limbs, and put us between the hot blankets which they had just left.  As soon as I was in bed the mate made me drink a tumbler of hot grog, and left me.  I soon fell into a deep sleep, long before they had ceased their attempts to restore vitality to my companion, which at last they did.  When I awoke the next morning I was quite well, and the