You may get
as wet as the Dutchman before morning."
"There is only one thing to do in these circumstances," said Benjamin
in reply, "take things as they come, and make the best of it."
"If you can," added the boatman in a suggestive way. "If _you_ can, I
oughter. I've been in this business longer than you have lived."
The crew slept soundly; but Benjamin found no rest in such an unusual
plight. Sleep was out of the question, and he had all the more time to
_think_, and his active mind improved the opportunity, so that Boston,
home, the printing office, and his parents were dwelt upon until he
began to think he was _paying too dear for the whistle_ again. It is
not strange that runaways feel thus, sooner or later, since few of
them ever realize their anticipations.
The cold, dreary night wore away slowly, and the wind continued to
howl, and the breakers to dash and rear, until after the dawn of
morning. Benjamin was never more rejoiced to see daylight than he was
after that dismal and perilous night. It was the more pleasant to him,
because the wind began to abate, and there was a fairer prospect of
reaching their destination. As soon as the tumult of the winds and
waves had subsided, they weighed anchor, and steered for Amboy, where
they arrived just before night, "having been thirty hours on the water
without victuals, or any drink but a bottle of filthy rum.
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