‘The vessel stopped dead still,--I listened for the sound of pumping, or of preparing boats. I heard one--to me--strange noise, I can hardly describe it, between a blast and a bellow. I thought that it must be a signal, and I was not wrong; for I hear this morning that it was the fog-whistle from the shore. It seemed to me that it was useless for me to rise; if there were any use in my returning to the deck, dear Louis would call me. He would be sure to think of my life before his own.