The Coming Wave by Oliver Optic

The storm which swept over the waters of the lower bay, lashing them into a wild fury, and piling up the angry waves upon them, was not merely a squall; it was a hurricane, which raged for half an hour with uninterrupted violence. From the time the tempest struck the Waldo, she had been drifting towards the dangerous rocks; and when the wheel and rudder-head were shattered, the vessel became unmanageable. Six men, including the captain and the passenger, lay paralyzed on the quarter-deck. There were only three left -- the mate, the steward, and one seaman. When the steering apparatus was disabled, the brig fell off, and rushed madly before the hurricane, towards the dangerous reefs. The rain had been pouring down in torrents for a few moments, but little cared the seamen for that which could not harm the vessel.

Harvey Barth was not, and did not pretend to be, a sailor. When the storm burst upon the vessel, he retired to the galley. When the moments of peril came, he was alarmed at first; but then he felt that he had only a few months, or a year or two at most, of life left to him, and he tried to be as brave as the sailors who were doing there utmost to save the brig from destruction. Perhaps it would have been a pleasure to him in the last days of his life to do some noble deed; but there was only the drudgery of the common sailor to be done. He saw the man from the topsail yard strike heavily upon the deck. He dragged him into the galley, but he seemed to be dead. The steward had tender feelings, and he tried to do something to restore the unconscious sailor. While he was thus engaged, the mate summoned him to assist in setting the fore-topmast staysail. He obeyed the call, though it was the first time he was ever called upon to do any duty, except to make fast, or cast off the fore-sheet. He was not a strong man, but he did the best he could at the halyard, and the mate was satisfied with him.