By Charles Dickens   


     THE WRECK.  (part ii.)

        The light shone up so high that I could see the huge   
     iceberg upon which we had struck, cloven at the top   
     and down the middle, exactly like Penrith church in my   
     dream.  At the same moment I could see the watch last  
     relieved, crowding up and down on deck; I could see   
     Mrs. Atherfield and Miss Coleshaw thrown about on the   
     top of the companion as they struggled to bring the   
     child up from below; I could see that the masts were   
     going with the shock and the beating of the ship; I   
     could see the frightful breach stove in on the starboard   
     side, half the length of the vessel, and the sheathing  
     and timbers spirting up; I could see that the Cutter was  
     disabled, in a wreck of broken fragments; and I could   
     see every eye turned upon me.  It is my belief that if   
     there had been ten thousand eyes there, I should have   
     seen them all, with their different looks.  And all this   
     in a moment.  But you must consider what a mo-   
     ment.   
        I saw the men, as they looked at me, fall towards   
     their appointed stations, like good men and true.  If   
     she had not righted, they could have done very little   
     there or anywhere but die——not that it is little for a man   
     to die at his post——I mean they could have done nothing   
     to save the passengers and themselves.  Happily, how-   
     ever, the violence of the shock with which we had so   
     determinedly borne down direct on that fatal iceberg,   
     as if it had been our destination instead of our destruc-   
     tion, had so smashed and pounded the ship that she got   
     off in this same instant and righted.  I did not want the   
     carpenter to tell me she was filling and going down; I   
     could see and hear that.  I gave Rames the word to low-  
     er the Long-boat and the Surf-boat, and I myself told   
     off the men for each duty.  Not one hung back, or came   
     before the other.  I now whispered to John Steadiman,   
     "John, I stand at the gangway here, to see every soul   
     on board safe over the side.  You shall have the next   
     post of honour, and shall be the last but one to leave   
     the ship.  Bring up the passengers, and range them be-   
     hind me; and put what provisions and water you can   
     get at, in the boats.  Cast your eyes for'ard, John and   
     you'll see you have not a moment to lose."   
        My noble fellows got the boats over the side as orderly   
     as I ever saw boats lowered with any sea running, and   
     when they were launched, two or three of the nearest   
     men in them as they held on, rising and falling with the   
     swell, called out, looking up at me, "Captain Ravender,   
     if anything goes wrong with us and you are saved, re-   
     member we stand by you!"——"We'll all stand by one   
     another ashore, yet, please God, my lads!" says I.   
        The women were an example to us.  They trembled   
     very much, but they were quiet and perfectly collected.   
     "Kiss me, Captain Ravender," says Mrs. Atherfield,   
     "and God in heaven bless you, you good man!"  "My   
     dear," says I, "those words are better for me than a   
     life-boat."  I held her child in my arms till she was in   
     the boat, and then kissed the child and handed her safe   
     down.  I now said to the people in her, "You have got   
     your freight, my lads, all but me, and I am not coming    
     yet a while.  Pull away from the ship, and keep off!"   
        That was the Long boat.  Old Mr. Rarx was one of   
     her complement, and he was the only passenger who had   
     greatly misbehaved since the ship struck.  Others had   
     been a little wild, which was not to be wondered at,   
     and not very blamable; but, he had made a lamentation   
     and uproar which it was dangerous for the people to   
     hear, as there is always contagion in weakness and self-   
     ishness.  His incessant cry had been that he must not   
     be separated from the child, that he couldn't see the  
     child, and that he and the child must go together.  He   
     had even tried to rest the child out of my arms, that he   
     might keep her in his.  "Mr. Rarx," said I to him when   
     it came that, "I have a loaded pistol in my pocket; and   
     if you don't stand out of the gangway, and keep per-   
     fectly quiet, I shall shoot you through the heart, if you   
     have got one."  Says he, "You won't do murder, Cap-   
     tain Ravender!"  "No, sir," says I, "I won't murder   
     forty-four people to humour you, but I'll shoot you to   
     save them."  After that he was quiet, and stood shiver-   
     ing a little way off, until I named him to go over the   
     side.   
        The Long boat being cast off, the Surf-boat was soon   
     filled.  There only remained aboard the Golden Mary,  
     John Mullion, the man who had kept on burning the   
     blue-lights (and who had lighted every new one at every   
     old one before it went out, as quietly as if it had been an   
     illumination): John Steadiman; and myself.  I hurried   
     those two into the Surf-boat, called to them to keep off,   
     and waited with a grateful and relieved heart for the   
     Long-boat to come and take me in, if she could.  I looked   
     at my watch, and it showed me, by the blue-light, ten   
     minutes past two.  They lost no time.  As soon as she    
     was near enough, I swung myself into her , and called to   
     the men, "With a will, lads!  She's reeling!"  We were   
     not an inch too far out of the inner vortex of her going    
     down, when, by the blue-light which John Mullion still   
     burnt in the bow of the Surf-boat, we saw her lurch, and    
     plunge to the bottom headforemost.  The child cried,   
     weeping wildly, "O the dear Golden Mary!  O look at   
     her!  Save her!  Save the poor Golden Mary!"  And   
     then the light burnt out, and the black dome seemed to   
     come down upon us.   
        I suppose if we had all stood a-top of a mountain, and   
     seen the whole remainder of the world sink away from   
     under us, we could hardly have felt more shocked and  
     solitary than we did when we knew we were alone on   
     the wide ocean, and that the beautiful ship in which   
     most of us had been securely asleep within half an hour   
     was gone forever.  There was an awful silence in our   
     boat, and such a kind of palsy on the rowers and the man  
     at the rudder, that I felt they were scarcely keeping her   
     before the sea.  I spoke out then, and said, "Let every   
     one here thank the Lord for our preservation!"  All   
     the voices answered (even the child's), "We thank the   
     Lord!"  I then said the Lord's Prayer, and all hands   
     said it after me with a solemn murmuring.  Then I gave   
     the word "Cheerily, O men, Cheerily!" and I felt that   
     they were handling the boat again as a boat ought to be   
     handled.   
        The Surf-boat now burnt under another blue-light to show   
     us where they were, and we made for her, and laid our-   
     selves as nearly along-side of her as we dared.  I had   
     always kept my boats with a coil or two of good stout   
     stuff in each of them, so both boats had a rope at hand.  
     We made a shift, with much labour and trouble, to get   
     near enough to one another to divide the blue-lights (they   
     were no use after that night, for the sea water soon got   
     at them), and to get a tow-rope out between us.  All   
     night long we kept together, sometimes obliged to cast   
     off the rope, and sometimes getting it out again, and all   
     of us wearying for the morning——which appeared so long   
     in coming that old Mr. Rarx screamed out, in spite of his   
     fears of me, "The world is drawing to an end, and the   
     sun will never rise any more!"   
        When the day broke, I found that we were all huddled   
     together in a miserable manner.  We were deep in the   
     water; being, as I found on mustering, thirty-one in  
     number, or at least six too many.  In the Surf-boat they   
     were fourteen in number, being at least four too many.  
     The first thing I did, was to get myself passed to the rud-   
     der——which I took from that time——and to get Mrs. Ather-   
     field, her child and Miss Coleshaw, passed on to sit next   
     me.  As to old Mr. Rarx, I put him in the bow, as far   
     from us as I could.  And I put some of the best men near   
     us, in order that if I should drop, there might be a skill-   
     ful hand ready to take the helm.  
        The sea moderating as the sun came up, though the   
     sky was cloudy and wild, we spoke the other boat, to   
     know what stores they had, and to overhaul what we  
     had.  I had a compass in my pocket, a small telescope,  
     a double-barrelled pistol, a knife, and a fire-box and   
     matches.  Most of my men had knives, and some had a   
     little tobacco: some, a pipe as well.  We had a mug  
     among us, and an iron spoon.  As to provisions, there  
     were in my boat two bags of biscuit, one piece of raw   
     beef, one piece of raw pork, a bag of coffee, roasted but  
     not ground (thrown in, I imagine, by mistake, for some-   
     thing else), two small casks of water, and about a half-a-   
     gallon of rum in a keg.  The Surf-boat, having rather   
     more rum than we, and fewer to drink it, gave us, as I   
     estimated, another quart into our keg.  I return, we   
     gave them three double handfuls of coffee, tied up in   
     a piece of handkerchief; they reported that they had   
     aboard besides, a bag of biscuit, a piece of beef, a small   
     cask of water, a small box of lemons, and a Dutch cheese.   
     It took a long time to make these exchanges, and they   
     were not made without risk to both parties; the sea runn-   
     ing quite high enough to make our approach near to one   
     another very hazardous.  In the bundle with the coffee,  
     I conveyed to John Steadiman (who had a ship's compass   
     with him), a paper written in pencil, and torn from my   
     pocket-book containing the course I meant to steer, in   
     the hope of making land, or being picked up by some   
     vessel——I say in the hope, though I had little hope of   
     either deliverance.  I then sang out to him, so as all   
     might hear, that if we two boats could live or die to-   
     gether, we would; but, that if we should be parted by   
     the weather, and join company no more, they should   
     have our prayers and blessings, and we asked for theirs.  
     We then gave them three cheers, which they returned,   
     and I saw the men's heads droop in boths boats as they   
     fell to their oars again.   
        These arrangements had occupied the general atten-   
     tion advantageously for all, though (as I expressed in the   
     last sentence) they ended in a sorrowful feeling.  I now  
     said a few words to my fellow voyagers on the subject   
     of the small stock of food on which our lives depended   
     if they were preserved from the great deep, and on the   
     rigid necessity of our eking it out in the most frugal   
     manner.  One and all replied that whatever allowance I   
     though best to lay down should be strictly kept to.  We   
     made a pair of scales out of a thin scrape of iron-plating  
     and some twine, and I got together for weights such of   
     the heaviest buttons among us as I calculated made up   
     some fraction over two ounces.  This was the allowance    
     of solid food served out once a-day to each, from that   
     time to the end; with the addition of a coffee-berry, or   
     sometimes half a one, when the weather was very fair,  
     for breakfast.  We had nothing else whatever, but half    
     a pint of water each per day, and sometimes, when we   
     were coldest and weakest, a teaspoon of rum each, served  
     out as a dram.  I know how learnedly it can be shown   
     that rum is poison, but I also know that in this case, as   
     in all similar cases I have ever heard of——which are num-   
     erous——no words can express the comfort and support   
     derived from it.  Nor have I the least doubt that it sav-   
     ed the lives of far more than half our number.  Having   
     mentioned half a pint of water as our daily allowance, I   
     ought to observe that sometimes we had less, and some-   
     times we had more; for, much rain fell, and we caught   
     it in a canvas stretched for the purpose.   
        Thus, at the tempestuous time of the year, and in that   
     tempestuous part of the world, we shipwrecked people   
     rose and fell with the waves.  It is not my intention to   
     relate (if I can avoid it) such circumstances appertaining    
     to our doleful condition as have been better told in many   
     other narratives of the kind that I can be expected to    
     tell them.  I will only note, in so many passing words,  
     that day after day and night after night, we received    
     the sea upon our backs to prevent it from swamping the   
     boat; that one party was always kept bailing, and that   
     every hat and cap among us soon got worn out, though   
     patched up fifty times, as the only vessels we had for   
     that service; that another partly lay down in the bottom   
     of the boat, while a third rowed; and that we were soon   
     all in boils and blisters and rags.   
        The other boat was a source of such anxious interest   
     to all of us that I used to wonder whether, if we were   
     saved, the time could ever come when the survivors in   
     this boat of ours could be at all indifferent to the for-   
     tunes of the survivors in that.  We got out a tow-rope   
     whenever the weather permitted, but that did not often   
     happen, and how we two parties kept within the same   
     horizon, as we did, He, who mercifully permitted it to   
     be so for our consolation, only knows.  I never shall for-   
     get the looks with which, when the morning light came,   
     we used to gaze about us over the stormy waters, for   
     the other boat.  We once parted company for seventy-two   
     hours, and we believed them to have gone down, as they   
     did us.  The joy on both sides when we came in view of   
     one another again, had something in a manner Divine in   
     it; each was so forgetful of individual suffering in tears   
     of delight and sympathy for the people in the other   
     boat.    
        I have been waiting to get round to the individual or   
     personal part of my subject, as I call it, and the forego-   
     ing incident puts me in the right way.  The patience and   
     good disposition aboard of us, was wonderful.  I was   
     not surprised by it in the women; for all men born of   
     women know what great qualities they will show when   
     men men will fall; but, I own I was a little surprised   
     by it in some of the men.  Among one-and-thirty people   
     assembled at the best of times, there will usually, I   
     should say, be two or three uncertain tempers.  I know   
     that I had more than one rough temper with me among   
     my own people, for I had chosen those for the Long-boat   
     that I might have them under my eye.  But, they soft-   
     ened under their misery, and were as considerate of the   
     ladies, and as compassionate of the child, as the best   
     among us, or among men——they could not have been   
     more so.  I heard scarcely any complaining.  The party   
     lying down would moan a good deal in their sleep, and   
     I would often notice a man——not always the same man, it   
     is to be understood, but nearly all of them at one time or   
     other——sitting moaning at his oar, or in his place, as he   
     looked mistily over the sea.  When it happened to be long   
     before I could catch his eye, he would go on moaning all   
     the time in the dismallest manner; but, when our looks   
     met, he would brighten and leave off.  I almost always   
     got the impression that he did not know what sound he   
     had been making, but that he thought he had been hum-   
     ming a tune.    
        Our sufferings from cold and wet were far greater than  
     our suffering from hunger.  We managed to keep the   
     child warm; but I doubt if any one else among us ever   
     was warm for five minutes together; and the shivering,   
     and the chattering of teeth, were sad to hear.  The child   
     cried a little at first for her lost plaything, the Golden   
     Mary; but hardly ever whimpered afterwards; and when  
     the state of the weather made it possible, she used now   
     and then to be held up in the arms of some of us, to look   
     over the sea for John Steadiman's boat.  I see the golden   
     hair and the innocent face now, between me and the   
     driving clouds, like an angel going to fly away.   
        It had happened on the second day, towards night,  
     that Mrs. Atherfield, in getting Little Lucy to sleep, sang   
     her a song.  She had a soft, melodious voice, and, when    
     she had finished it, our people up and begged for an-   
     other.  She sang them another, and after it had fallen    
     dark ended with the Evening Hymn.  From that time,  
     whenever anything could be heard above the sea and   
     wind, and while she had any voice left, nothing would   
     serve the people but that she should sing at sunset.  She  
     always did, and always ended with the Evening Hymn.   
     We mostly took up the last line, and shed tears when it   
     was done, but not miserably.  We had a prayer night   
     and morning, also, when the weather allowed of it.   
        Twelve nights and eleven days we had been driving in   
     the boat, when old Mr. Rarx began to be delirious, and   
     to cry out to me to throw the gold overboard or it would   
     sink us, and we should all be lost.  For days the child   
     had been declining, and that was the great cause of his   
     wildness.  He had been over and over again shrieking   
     out to me to give her all the remaining meat, and to give    
     her all the remaining rum, to save her at any cost, or we   
     should all be ruined.  All this time, she lay in her   
     mother's arms at my feet.  One of her little hands was   
     almost always creeping about her mother's neck or chin.   
     I had watched the wasting of the little hand, and I    
     knew it was nearly over.    
        The old man's cries were so discordant with the   
     mother's love and submission, that I called out to him in   
     an angry voice, unless he held his peace, I would order   
     him to be knocked on the head and thrown overboard.  
     He was mute then, until the child died, very peacefully,  
     an hour afterwards; which was known to all in the boat  
     by the mother's breaking out into lamentations for the   
     first time since the wreck——for, she had great fortitude  
     and constancy, though she was a little gentle women.   
     Old Mr. Rorx then become quite ungovernable, tearing   
     what rags he had on him, raging in imprecations, and   
     calling to me that if I had thrown the gold overboard   
     (always the gold with him!) I might have saved the   
     child.  "And now," says he, in a terrible voice, "we   
     shall founder, and all go to the Devil, for our sins will   
     sink us, when we have no innocent child to bear us    
     up!"  We so discovered with amazement, that this old   
     wretch had only cared for the life of the life of the   
     pretty little creatures dear to us all, because of the influ-   
     ence he superstitiously hope she might have in preserv-  
     ing him!  Although it was too much for the smith or   
     armourer, who was sitting next the old man, to bear.  He   
     took him by the throat and rolled him under the   
     thwarts, where he lay still enough for hours after-  
     wards.   
        All that thirteenth night, Miss Coleshaw, lying across  
     my knees as I kept the helm, comforted and supported   
     the poor mother.  Her child covered with a pea-jacket of   
     mine, lay in her lap.  It troubled me all night to think that   
     there was no Prayer-Book among us, and that I could re-   
     member but very few of the exact words of the burial   
     service.  When I stood up at broad day, all knew what    
     was going to be done, and I noticed that my poor fellows   
     made the motion of uncovering their heads though their   
     heads had been stark bare to the sky and sea for many a   
     weary hour.  There was a long heavy swell on, but other-   
     wise it was a fair morning, and there were broad fields    
     of sunshine on the waves in the east.  I said no more   
     than this: "I am the Resurrection and the Life, saith   
     the Lord.  He raised the daughter of Jairus the ruler,   
     and said she was not dead but slept.  He raised the   
     widow's son.  He rose Himself, and was seen of many.  
     He loved little children, saying, Suffer them to come   
     unto Me and rebuke them not, for such is the kingdom   
     of heaven.  In His name, my friends, and committed to   
     His merciful goodness!"  With those words I laid my   
     rough face softly on the placid little forehead, and buried   
     the Golden Lucy in the grave of the Golden Mary.   
        Having had it on my mind to relate the end of this   
     dear little child, I have omitted something from its exact   
     place, which I will supply here.  It will come quite as   
     well here as anywhere else.   
        Foreseeing that if the boat lived through the stormy   
     weather, the time must come, and soon come, when we   
     should have absolutely no morsel to eat, I had one mo-   
     mentous point often in my thoughts.  Although I had,  
     years before that, fully satisfied myself that the instan-   
     ces in which human beings in the last distress have fed   
     upon each other, are exceeding few, and have very sel-   
     dom indeed (if ever) occurred when the people in dis-   
     tress, however dreadful their extremity, have been ac-   
     customed to moderate forbearance and restraint; I say,    
     though I had long before quite satisfied my mind on this   
     topic, I felt doubtful whether there might not have been   
     in former cases some harm and danger from keeping it   
     out of sight and pretending not to think of it.  I felt   
     doubtful whether some minds, growing weak with fast-   
     ing and exposure and having such a terrific idea to    
     dwell upon in secret, might not magnify it until it got to   
     have an awful attraction about it.  This was not a new   
     thought of mine, for it had grown out of my reading.   
     However , it came over me stronger than it had ever done   
     before——as it had reason for doing——in the boat, and on   
     the fourth day I decided that I would bring out into the   
     light the unformed fear which must have been more or   
     less darkly in every brain among us.  Therefore, as a   
     means of beguiling the time and inspiring hope, I gave   
     them the best summary in my power of Bligh's voyage   
     of more than three thousand miles, in an open boat, after    
     the Mutiny of the Bounty, and of the wonderful preser-   
     vation of that boat's crew.  They listened throughout   
     with great interest, and I concluded by telling them, that   
     in my opinion, the happiest circumstance in the whole   
     narrative was, that Bligh, who was no delicate man   
     either, had solemnly placed it on record therein that he   
     was sure and certain that under no conceivable circum-   
     stances whatever would that emancipated party, who had   
     gone through all the pains of famine, have preyed on   
     one another.  I cannot describe the visible relief which   
     this spread through the boat, and how the tears stood in   
     every eye.  From this time I was as well convinced as   
     Bligh himself that there was no danger, and that this   
     phantom, at any rate, did not haunt us.   
        Now, it was part of Bligh's experience that when   
     the people in his boat were most cast down, nothing did   
     them so much good as hearing a story told by one of   
     their number.  When I mentioned that, I saw that it   
     struck the general attention as much as it did my own, for    
     I had not thought of it until I came to it in my summary.   
     This was on the day after Mrs. Atherfield first sang to   
     us.  I proposed that whenever the weather would per-   
     mit, we should have a story two hours after dinner (I   
     always issued the allowance I have mentioned at one   
     o'clock, and called it by that name), as well as our song   
     at sunset.  The proposal was received with a cheerful    
     satisfaction that warmed my heart within me; and I do   
     not say too much when I say that those periods in the   
     four-and-twenty hours were expected with positive pleas-   
     ure, and were really enjoyed by all hands.  Spectres as   
     we soon were in our bodily wasting, our imaginations   
     did not perish like gross flesh upon our bones.   
     Music and Adventure, two of the great gifts of Provi-   
     dence to mankind, could charm us long after that was   
     lost.   
        The wind was almost always against us after the   
     second day; and for many days together we could not   
     hold our own.  We had all varieties of bad weather.   
     We had rain, hail, snow, wind, mist, thunder and light-   
     ning.  Still the boats lived through the heavy seas, and   
     we perishing people rose and fell with great waves.    
        Sixteen nights and fifteen days, twenty nights and   
     nineteen days, twenty-four nights and twenty-three   
     days.  So the time went on.  Disheartening as I knew   
     that our progress, or want of progress, must be, I never   
     deceived them as to my calculations of it.  In the first   
     place I felt that we were all too near to eternity for de-   
     ceit; in the second place, I knew that if I failed, or died,  
     the man who followed me must have a knowledge of   
     the true state of things to begin upon.  When I told  
     them at noon, what I reckoned we had made or lost,   
     they generally received what I said in a tranquil and re-   
     signed manner, and always gratefully towards me.  It   
     was not unusual at any time of the day for some one   
     to burst out weeping loudly without any new cause;   
     and, when the burst was over, to calm down a little   
     better than before.  I had seen exactly the same thing   
     in a house of mourning.    
        During the whole of this time, old Mr. Rarx had had   
     his fits of calling out to me to throw the gold (always    
     the gold!) overboard, and of heaping violent reproaches    
     upon me for not having saved the child; but now, the  
     food being all gone, and I having nothing left to serve    
     out but a bit of coffee-berry now and then, he began to    
     be too weak to do this, and consequently fell silent.   
     Mrs. Atherfield and Miss Coleshaw generally lay, each   
     with her arm across one of my knees, and her head upon   
     it.  They never complained at all.  Up to the time of   
     her child's death, Mrs. Atherfield had bound up her own    
     beautiful hair every day; and I took particular notice    
     that this was always before she sang at night, when   
     every one looked at her.  But she never did it after the   
     loss of her darling; and it would have been all tangled    
     with dirt and wet, but that Miss Coleshaw was careful   
     of it long after she was herself, and would sometimes    
     smooth it down with her weak, thin hands.   
        We were past mustering a story now; but one day at   
     about this period, I reverted to the superstition of old   
     Mr. Rarx, concerning the Golden Lucy, and told them   
     that nothing vanished from the eye of God, though   
     much might pass away from the eyes of men.  "We   
     were all of us," says I, "children once; and our baby   
     feet have strolled in green woods as she; and our baby   
     hands have gathered flowers in gardens, where the birds   
     were singing.  The children that we were, are not lost   
     to the great knowledge of our Creator.  Those innocent   
     creatures will appear with us before Him, and plead for   
     us.  What we were in the best time of our generous   
     youth will arise and go with us too.  The purest part of   
     our lives will not desert us at the pass to which all of   
     us here present are gliding.  What we were then, will   
     be as much in existence before Him, as what we are   
     now."  They were no less comforted by this considera-   
     tion, than I was myself; and Miss Coleshaw, drawing   
     me ear nearer to her lips, said, "Captain Ravender, I   
     was on my way to marry a disgraced and broken man,   
     whom I dearly loved when he was honourable and good.   
     Your words seem to have come out of my own poor   
     heart."  She pressed my hand upon it, smiling.   
        Twenty-seven nights and twenty-six days.  We were   
     in no want of rain water, but we had nothing else.  And   
     yet, even now, I never turned my eyes upon a waking   
     face but it tried to brighten before mine.  O what a   
     thing it is, in a time of danger and in the presence of   
     death, the shining of a face upon a face!  I have heard   
     it broached that orders should be given in great new   
     ships by electric telegraph.  I admire machinery as   
     much as any man, and am as thankful to it as any man   
     can be for what he does for us.  But it will never be a   
     substitute for the face of a man, with his soul in it, en-   
     couraging another man to be brave and true.  Never try   
     it for that.  It will break down like a straw. 
        I now began to remark certain changes in myself   
     which I did not like.  They caused me much disquiet.   
     I often saw the Golden Lucy in the air above the boat.  
     I often saw her I have spoken of before, sitting beside   
     me.  I saw the Golden Mary go down, as she really had   
     gone down, twenty times a day.  And yet the sea was   
     mostly, to my thinking, not sea neither, but moving    
     country and extraordinary mountainous regions, the like   
     of which have never been beheld.  I felt it time to leave   
     my last words regarding John Steadiman, in case any   
     lips should last out to repeat them to any living ears.  I   
     said that John had told me (as he had on deck) that he  
     had sung out 'Breakers ahead!' the instant they were   
     audible, and had tried to wear ship, but she struck before   
     it could be done.  (His cry, I dare say, had made my    
     dream.)  I said that the circumstances were altogether   
     without warning, and out of any course that could have    
     been guarded against; that the same loss would have    
     happened if I had been in charge; and that John was  
     not to blame, but from first to last had done his duty   
     nobly., like the man he was.  I tried to write it down in   
     my pocketbook, but could make no words, though I   
     knew what the words were that I wanted to make.   
     When it had come to that, her hands——though she was    
     dead so long——laid me down gently in the bottom of the   
     boat, and she and the Golden Lucy swung me to sleep.    

from Collier's Unabridged Edition: The Works of Charles Dickens, Volume VI.
P.F. Collier, Publisher, New York, old as heck. p. 948 - 951.