We now counted the hours as they went by. As yet our strength was not materially decreased. Though our arms ached, we could still mechanically labour at the oars when we got into our seats; but I very much doubt that we made as much as three knots an hour.

That next night was the most trying we had yet pa.s.sed in the boat. We had had no breakfast in the morning, not a drop of water to cool our parched tongues, or even to moisten our cracked lips. We might have made the water, by more economy, hold out another day, but there was no use regretting that now. We felt the heat greater than ever. Tom proposed getting overboard; but there was the difficulty of getting in again; so Mudge advised that we should simply dip our clothes in the water and put them on again, that we might thus imbibe some moisture through our skins. He charged us on no account, however thirsty we might feel, to drink the salt water, pointing out the fearful result which might ensue.

Once more the sun went down, and we tried to row, but could now scarcely move the oars. At length, afraid of losing them, Mudge told Harry and me, who were then rowing, or rather trying to row, to haul them in; and we all stretched ourselves in the bottom of the boat and went to sleep.

Morning came again, and one by one we sat up and looked about us, and then gazed into each other's faces without speaking.

"I vote we have breakfast," said Tom at length, "for I'm sharp set and very thirsty."

"There's neither food nor water remaining, boy," answered Mudge in a hollow tone. "G.o.d may, if he thinks fit, send us help before the day is over. We can hold out a few hours longer, I should hope; but if help does not come, we must make up our minds like men to die. It has been the lot of many; why should we complain?"

These remarks were not calculated to raise our spirits. Perhaps Mudge knew that it would be useless to make any attempt to do so. He spoke but the truth, and we all knew that. It was a perfect calm; no vessel could approach us, and we were too weak to row. Mudge and I made the attempt, telling Tom to steer; but after a few strokes I could row no more, and nearly let my oar slip before I could get it inboard.

"We must wait for a breeze," said Mudge, "which will come some time or other; it is our only hope."

For some time he was silent. He alone continued seated on a thwart, the rest of us having sunk down with our heads upon them, while we leaned against the side of the boat. As the sun rose, the heat became more and more oppressive.

"Lads, it won't do to give way to despair," exclaimed Mudge suddenly, after he had been silent for an hour or more. "Can't some of you sit up and talk?"

On hearing him say this, I endeavoured to arouse myself. Just then I heard a gentle splash in the water not far off. "What's that?" I exclaimed.

"A shoal of flying-fish," cried Mudge. "They are heading this way. Get out your oar, Rayner, and we will try and intercept them."

By a desperate effort I did as he told me, while he pulled the oar on the opposite side.

"That will do now," he cried. "Stand by, lads, and try to catch your breakfast as they come this way."

The appeal was not in vain; even Tom showed that he had still some life in him. The next instant several flying-fish fell into the boat, while with the stretchers we knocked down others which came alongside. They were pursued by a couple of albacores; one of these would have supplied us with ample food for several days, but so rapid were their movements that we got but a single blow at one of them. It dashed by the boat, and was in an instant lost to sight.

The shoal having pa.s.sed by, we had no hope of catching more, so we immediately set to work eating those we had captured--more in the fashion of ravenous beasts than human beings. They had died directly they were out of the water, or we should scarcely have waited to give them a knock on the head as a quietus before we dug our teeth into them.

When people are situated as we were, they do things at which under other circ.u.mstances they would be horrified.

But eight fish had been caught; we had consumed five, and thus only three remained to be divided among us for our next meal. However, even the small amount of food we had taken somewhat restored our strength, and I felt that I could hold out another day if water could be obtained; but there was no prospect of rain--the only source from whence it could be derived.

"If a bird would just tumble into the boat, it would give us meat and drink," observed Mudge. "We must hope for that, since no rain is likely to come."

In vain, however, did we look around for sea-fowl; by their non-appearance we feared that we must still be far distant from land.

Though we felt the gnawings of hunger, we suffered still more from thirst. When I at length dropped off to sleep, I dreamed of sparkling fountains; I saw bottles of champagne, and bitter beer, and all sorts of cooling beverages,--which, however, in some unaccountable way, I could not manage to carry to my lips.

But I will not dwell longer on the sufferings my companions and I endured; the subject is a painful one.

Mudge would not let us take the remainder of the fish that night, observing that it would last till the next morning, when we should want it for breakfast. We all acquiesced in his decision. He was constantly awake during the night, but the rest of us dozed for the greater part of it. At daylight, when I awoke, I saw that he had rigged one of the oars as a mast, to the upper end of which he had fastened a large handkerchief.

"Rouse up, boys!" he said, "and take your breakfast; we shall obtain relief to-day, or I am much mistaken."

"Why?" I groaned out--for I could scarcely speak.

"Because there is a breeze coming. And look up there at those birds-- perhaps one of them will come down and pay us a visit; and if so, we mustn't stand on ceremony, but knock it inhospitably on the head."

Mudge got out the fish, and cut each in two.

"You must take a whole one," I said; "you require more food than we do, and our lives depend on your keeping up your strength."

"No; I shall reserve it for luncheon," he answered; "even that little will be better than nothing, and it will be something to look forward to."

So dry were our mouths, however, we could scarcely masticate the uncooked fish.

We again sank down into our places. I felt that I could not hold out many hours longer; while the rest appeared still more exhausted.

Not a word was uttered by any of us excepting Mudge, who in vain appealed to us to talk. "Say something, boys! say something!" he every now and then cried out; "this silence is bad for us all. I won't ask you to crack a joke, or tell a funny story; but talk, boys--talk!" A groan was the only answer any of us gave.

A gentle breeze blew from the eastward; I had just consciousness enough to be aware of that--to see honest Mudge sitting near me, and constantly looking about him.

What length of time had pa.s.sed I know not, when I heard him shout, "A sail, boys! a sail!--we shall be saved!" His voice aroused me, and I saw him standing up, shading his eyes with his hand, while he leaned against the oar which formed the mast. "She's standing this way; do try, my lads, to hold out for an hour or so longer, and we shall have as much water to drink and food to eat as we want," he exclaimed. "Here, you shall have your luncheon;" and taking the half fish, he divided it into four equal portions.

"No, no, I don't want any; I can hold out well enough," he answered, when I made signs to him to take some. The rest of the party stretched out their hands feebly for the portion he gave them, but could with difficulty carry the food to their lips, or swallow it when they had got it into their mouths. So exhausted were we, indeed, that though we knew that a vessel was approaching, we were unable to sit up and watch her.

I too saw her, and as she got nearer Mudge sang out that she was a brig under English colours; yet I could not believe that she was a reality.

I several times heard him speaking about her approach. Once he exclaimed, with a deep groan,--"She's hauled her wind, and is standing away from us!" then again,--"No, no; she sees us!--thank G.o.d, we're saved! we're saved!" Still, his words had no effect upon me or the rest of the party. Again I heard him hail; and a voice came from the brig in return. I was just conscious that we were alongside, and soon afterwards I felt myself lifted upon the deck; but my senses were confused; I could not understand anything that was going forward, and soon lost all consciousness.

How long I thus lay I could not tell, when, on opening my eyes, I saw a face bending over me; it was that of my mother. I was sure that I was dreaming, and again closed my eyes. The next time I opened them, they fell on the sweet features of my young sister Edith. She stood by the side of the cot in which I lay. I gazed at her for some seconds. There she stood, watching me eagerly; yet I could not persuade myself that it was really her. I knew how very vividly I had often seen persons and objects in my dreams.

I was in a neatly furnished cabin; just before me was a picture of our house at Clifton, and near it were hanging a girl's straw hat and mantle. Again I turned my eyes towards the figure at my side. "Edith,"

I murmured, not expecting to receive a reply.

"Yes, yes, dear G.o.dfrey, I am Edith! Oh, how thankful I am that you are getting better, and know me."

The reply was very distinct, but so are often replies in dreams. Just then I heard a voice which came down the skylight, giving an order to the crew in an authoritative tone: it was that of my father, I was sure.

"Why, Edith, how has it all happened?" I asked; "is it a reality, or am I still dreaming?"

"It is all real, I a.s.sure you," answered Edith. "I must call mamma.

Oh, how thankful she will be! We were afraid sometimes that you would not get better, and poor Pierce has been so unhappy, and so have I; but papa said he knew that you would recover, and we ought to have remembered that he is always right. And now you must get well as fast as you can."

As she said this, I began to be convinced that I was awake, and that Edith really stood by my side. I did not detain her; and in another minute my mother was bending over me, and folding me in her arms, just as she had done the night before I came to sea. In a short time Pierce made his appearance, but was only allowed to remain a few seconds. Then my father came down, and said a few words expressive of his happiness; and then Edith, who had gone away, returned with a cup of broth, with which my mother fed me just as she had done when I was a baby.

I wanted at once to know how it had all happened, and what had brought my family out into the Pacific.

"It is a long story, and you are not strong enough to listen to it now,"

answered my mother; "we will tell you in good time. One thing I may say: we were providentially sent to rescue you and your companions."

"Are they all right?" I asked. "Have Mudge, and Harry, and Tom, and Popo been saved?"

"Mr Mudge has almost recovered; and the rest are, I trust, out of danger, though at first they appeared even weaker than you were,"

answered my mother. "Mr Mudge has told us Harry's interesting history.

Your father knows Captain Hudson, who is an old shipmate, and he will do his best to restore the long-lost boy to his parents. However, we must not talk more at present. Go to sleep again. Our medical book says, that the more a person exhausted as you have been can sleep, the sooner he will get well."

My mother having arranged a shawl over my shoulders, and bidding Edith sit down out of sight, glided out of the cabin. When I tried to talk, Edith only answered, "Hush!" and in a few minutes I was again asleep.