an’ it comed up day o’ t’ other side:  an’ there was n’ no land; nawthun but great mountains meltun an’ breakun up, an’ fields wastun away.  I sid ’t was a rollun barg made the noise like breakers; throwun up great seas o’ both sides of un; no sight nor sign o’ shore, nor ship, but dazun white,—­enough to blind a body,—­an’ I knowed ’t was all floatun away, over the say.  Then I said my prayers, an’ tooked a drink o’ water, an’ set out agen for Nor-norwest:  ‘t was all I could do.  Sometimes snow, an’ more times fair agen; but no sign o’ man’s things, an’ no sign o’ land, on’y white ice an’ black water; an’ ef a schooner was n’ into un a’ready, ‘t was n’ likely they woul’, for we was gettun furder an’ furder away.  Tired I was wi’ goun, though I had n’ walked more n’ a twenty or thirty mile, mubbe, an’ it all comun down so fast as I could go up, an’ faster, an’ never stoppun!  ’T was a tarrible long journey up over the driftun ice, at sea!  So, then I went on a high bit to wait tull all was done; I thowt ‘t would be last to melt, an’ mubbe, I thowt ‘e may capsize wi’ me, when I did n’ know (for I don’ say I was stouthearted); an’ I prayed Un to take care o’ them I loved; an’ the tears comed.  Then I felt somethun tryun to turn me round like, an’ it seemed as ef she was doun it, somehow, an’ she seemed to be very nigh, somehow, an’ I did n’ look.

“After a bit, I got up to look out where most swiles was, for company, while I was livun:  an’ the first look struck me a’most like a bullet!  There I sid a sail! ’T was a sail, an’ ’t was like heaven openun, an’ God settun her down there.  About three mile away she was, to nothe’ard, in th’ Ice.

“I could ha’ sid, at first look, what schooner ‘t was; but I did n’ want to look hard at her.  I kep’ my peace, a spurt, an’ then I runned an’ bawled out, ‘Glory be to God!’ an’ then I stopped, an’ made proper thanks to Un.  An’ there she was, same as ef I’d a-walked off from her an hour ago!  It felt so long as ef I’d been livun years, an’ they would n’ know me, sca’ce.  Somehow, I did n’ think I could come up wi’ her.

“I started, in the name o’ God wi’ all my might, an’ went, an’ went,—­’t was a five mile, wi’ goun round,—­an’ got her, thank God!  ‘T was n’ the Baccaloue (I sid that long before), ‘t was t’ other schooner, the Sparrow, repairun damages they’d got day before.  So that kep’ ’em there, an’ I’d a-been took from one an’ brought to t’ other.

“I could n’ do a hand’s turn tull we got into the Bay agen,—­I was so clear beat out.  The Sparrow kep’ her men, an’ fotch home about thirty-eight hundred swiles, an’ a poor man off th’ Ice:  but they, poor fellows, that I went out wi’ never comed no more:  an’ I never went agen.

“I kept the skin o’ the poor baste, Sir:  that’s ’e on my cap.”