over, wi’ a tarrible thunderun noise, an’ comed right on, breakun everything an’ throwun up great seas; ’t was frightsome for a lone body away out among ’em!  I stood an’ looked at un, but then agen I thowt I may jes’ so well be goun to thick ice an’ over Noofundland-ways a piece, so well as I could.  So I said my bit of a prayer, an’ told Un I could n’ help myself; an’ I made my confession how bad I’d been, an’ I was sorry, an ef ’E ‘d be so pitiful an’ forgive me; an’ ef I mus’ loss my life, ef ’E ‘d be so good as make me a good Christen first,—­an’ make they happy, in course.

“So then I started; an’ first I goed to where my gaff was, by the mother-swile an’ her whelp.  There was swiles every two or three yards a’most, old uns an’ young uns, all round everywhere; an’ I feeled shamed in a manner:  but I got my gaff, an’ cleaned un, an’ then, in God’s name, I took the big swile, that was dead by its dead whelp, an’ hauled it away, where the t’ other poor things could n’ si’ me, an’ I sculped[11] it, an’ took the pelt;—­for I thowt I’d wear un, now the poor dead thing did n’ want to make oose of un no more,—­an’ partly becase ’t was sech a lovun thing.  An’ so I set out, walkun this way for a spurt, an’ then t’ other way, keepun up mostly a Nor-norwest, so well as I could:  sometimes away round th’ open, an’ more times round a lump of ice, an’ more times, agen, off from one an’ on to another, every minute.  I did n’ feel hungry, for I drinked fresh water off th’ ice.  No schooner! no schooner!

[Footnote 11:  Skinned.]

“Bumby the sun was goun down:  ’t was slow work feelun my way along, an’ I did n’ want to look about; but then agen I thowt God ’ad made it to be sid; an’ so I come to, an’ turned all round, an’ looked; an’ surely it seemed like another world, someway, ’t was so beautiful,—­yellow, an’ different sorts o’ red, like the sky itself in a manner, an’ flashun like glass.  So then it comed night; an’ I thowt I should n’ go to bed, an’ I may forget my prayers, an’ so I’d, mubbe, best say ’em right away; an’ so I doned:  ‘Lighten our darkness,’ and others we was oosed to say; an’ it comed into my mind, the Lard said to Saint Peter, ‘Why did n’ ‘ee have faith?’ when there was nawthun on the water for un to go on; an’ I had ice under foot,—­’t was but frozen water, but ‘t was frozen,—­an’ I thanked Un.

“I could n’ help thinkun o’ Brigus an’ them I’d laved in it, an’ then I prayed for ’em; an’ I could n’ help cryun a’most; but then I give over agen, an’ would n’ think, ef I could help it; on’y tryun to say an odd psalm, all through singun-psalms an’ other, for I knowed a many of ’em by singun wi’ Patience, on’y now I cared more about ’em:  I said that one,—­

   ‘Sech as in ships an’ brickle barks
      Into the seas descend,
    Their merchantun, through fearful floods,
      To compass an’ to end: 
    They men are force-put to behold
      The Lard’s works, what they be;
    An’ in the dreadful deep the same
      Most marvellous they see.’