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‘  costs my life.’ On the second day he was delirious; but as the little ship approached one dangerous coast he regained consciousness, and spoke of his home and the loved ones awaiting his coming at Smithville. When darkness drew on his fever increased and his condition seemed hopeless, but with the heart of a lion he determined to take his post on the bridge, and when the soundings were reached he was carried bodily to the wheel-house, where, supported by two of the sailors, he guided by feeble tones the gallant ship through devious ways, until the hostile fleet was passed. As the well-known lights of his home appeared in the distance his voice grew stronger, but tremulous, for he felt that he was nearing the end of life's voyage. ‘Starboard; steady; port; ease her; stop her: let go your anchor—’ with the rattle of the chains he sank to the desk, overcome by the dread disease, and on the following morning breathed his last. For, thoa from out our bourne time and place,
The flood may bear me far;
I hope to see my pilot face to face,
When I have crossed the bar.
Along the coast may still be seen the storm-beaten hulls of some of the unfortunate ships, which, after weathering many a gale at sea, came to grief within sight of a friendly port. The Beauregard and the Venus lie stranded on Carolina Beach; the Modern Greece near New Inlet; the Antonica on Frying Pan Shoals; the Ella on Bald Head; the Spunkey and the Georgiana McCall on Caswell Beach; the Hebe and the Dee between Wrightsville and Masonboro. Two others lie near Lockswood's Folly Bar, and others whose names are also forgotten, lie half buried in the sands, where they may remain for centuries.
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