At last, the sun--long waited for--arose; the Parki meantime sinking lower and lower.
All things being in readiness, we proceeded to embark from the wreck, as from a wharf.
But not without some show of love for our poor brigantine.
To a seaman, a ship is no piece of mechanism merely; but a creature of thoughts and fancies, instinct with life. Standing at her vibrating helm, you feel her beating pulse. I have loved ships, as I have loved men.
To abandon the poor Parki was like leaving to its fate something that could feel. It was meet that she should the decently and bravely.
All this thought the Skyeman. Samoa and I were in the boat, calling upon him to enter quickly, lest the vessel should sink, and carry us down in the eddies; for already she had gone round twice. But cutting adrift
