Larkin?" I asked.
"Almost, captain,--don't give up: for the love of our dear little ones
at home, don't give up, captain," replied Larkin.
The oars flashed as the blades turned up to the moonlight. The men who
plied them were fathers, and had fathers' hearts; the strength which
nerved them at that moment was more than human.
Suddenly Mr. Larkin stopped pulling, and my heart for a moment almost
ceased its beating; for the terrible thought that he had given out
crossed my mind. But I was quickly reassured by his saying--
"Gently, captain, gently--a stroke or two more--there, that will
do"--and the next moment the boat's side came in contact with something.
Larkin sprung from the boat upon the ice. I started up, and, calling
upon the men to make fast the boat to the ice, followed.
We ran to the dark spot in the centre of the mass, and found two little
boys--the head of the smaller nestling in the bosom of the larger. Both
were fast asleep!
They were benumbed with cold, and would surely have frozen to death, but
for our timely rescue.
Mr. Larkin grasped one of the lads, cut off his shoes, tore off his
jacket; and then, loosening his own garments to the skin, placed the
chilled child in contact with his own warm body, carefully wrapping over
him his great-coat.
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