“Magee as he entered the boat seized my shotgun and a pouch of loaded shells, the only things within reach, and we saved nothing else.  Fortunately the boats had been used on shore expeditions and ours was provisioned with a bag of sea biscuits and a quantity of water, and contained some blankets.

“On the day following the wreck my wife was taken ill, developing, I believe, pneumonia.  On the fifth day she died.  I would have kept her remains with us in the boat, but Magee insisted that she be buried at sea, claiming that the presence of her body would have a constantly depressing effect upon us.  I offered a prayer and said an improvised burial service over her, we wrapped her in a blanket, and weighting her body with an anchor buried her.  My heart went into the sea with her, and but for my young son at home and my little nephew, I would have wished to follow her.

“Yesterday Magee went mad.  He began to talk wildly, and to brandish the loaded gun.  I feared he would do injury with it, and endeavored to take it from him.  In some manner it was discharged, and I was injured, I am well aware, fatally.  I lost consciousness, and when I awoke today Magee was gone.  In his frenzy he must have plunged overboard.

“My strength is nearly gone, and it is hard to hold a pencil.  Should our boat by chance be discovered, let the finder communicate with Mr. Henry Winslow, Carrington, Massachusetts, and care for the little boy, who is his son.  I commend the child to God’s care, and as I die I pray God that my son Edward may grow to noble and Christian manhood—­that he may possess as true and noble and Christian a character as my long-lost brother for whom he was named, the brother who sacrificed so much for me and him, and whom I wronged so deeply.  God has forgiven me and I die in peace.

“Robert Norman.”

It was difficult to read the final lines, for the pencil had wavered sadly, and it was evident that the entry had been finished with intense effort.

When Mr. Winslow at last laid aside the yellow old notebook there were no dry eyes, and for a little while all were silent.  Then Edward took Skipper Ed’s hand in a strong grasp.

“With God’s help,” said he, “I will live as my father wished, and always endeavor to be worthy his ideal.”

* * * * *

But our story must end.  I might relate how Bobby and Jimmy went to college, for Skipper Ed would not part from his partner.  How the three always spent their summers with Abel Zachariah and Mrs. Abel, and provided for their comfort until in the fullness of years they went to their final rest; and how Edward erected a stone on Itigailit Island to his father’s memory.  But already our story has grown too long.

We may be sure in the busy years that followed, Bobby and Jimmy never forgot the cabins at Abel’s Bay, nor the cozy hours in the easy chairs before the big box stove.  Nor Skipper Ed’s teaching:  “Destiny is God’s will.”