Hanging for dear life to the railing near the wheel the Captain looked upon the uproar of the elements, and must have admitted to himself that the helmsman’s words of accusation were only too well founded.  A frightful cry shook his soul.  “Cain, where is thy brother Abel?  What hast thou done with thy brother’s child?  What judgment will be pronounced on thee?” Now he did not seek to put the guilt on his corrupter, his bad angel, but admitted that he was guilty, and despair almost broke his heart.  “There is no forgiveness, miserable sinner,” whispered the arch enemy.  “Thou art a murderer, thy brother’s murderer!” Then came back a happier thought, a picture of his innocent youth.  He saw himself before the miraculous image of the Blessed Virgin, which he then so often visited.  There were the lights of many candles, and her motherly eyes looking down upon him, and at the foot of the image written on a little tablet these words:  “Mother of mercy, refuge of sinners:  pray for us.”  Like a friendly star in the night of awful darkness came this bright picture, and in his agony he cried to heaven:  “O Lord, give me time to repent and atone for my sins.”

The vessel swept on.  The wind tore the sails to shreds.  The sailors cast the anchor.  With a thud it went into the sea, and for a moment held the vessel.

“Cut the masts,” thundered the Captain.  The sailors obeyed orders, but with the first stroke of the ax, above the roaring of winds and waves came the awful human cry:  “The anchor is lost!  We’re drifting!”

“God have mercy on our souls,” cried Green crossing himself, and the Captain fell on his knees, moaning, “Mercy, mercy, O Lord, have mercy on us!”

A dazzling streak of lightning showed the white outlines of the reef and the next moment a wave mountain high washed the vessel upon it.

CHAPTER XI.

Stranded.

When the ship stranded on the reef all on board were thrown from their feet, and the anguishing cries of the shipwrecked mingled with the creaking of the vessel and the roaring of the waves.  The two boys found themselves in utter darkness in a corner of the cabin.  Willy, the first to recover himself sufficiently to speak, said: 

“Oh, Peppo, are you alive?”

“I thought the ship was sinking and that we were drowning.  Oh, if we had only all repented and atoned,” groaned Peppo.

“Hear your people calling,” said Willy.

“They are not baptized and will go to hell.  Shall we not try to baptize them?  Come, quickly, let us try.  If I could only find the door—­here it is.  Come, come.”