Chapter Six.

Chapter Six.Owen was awakened by a kick in the side.“Rouse out, there, you lazy young rascal. Light the fire, and get the breakfast ready,” said the person who had thus rudely disturbed his slumbers.Glancing up, he saw the first mate standing over him. He sprang to his feet, looking, as he felt, much astonished at the treatment he had received.“Call the other boy to help you,” continued Mr Scoones. “Be sharp about it.”Owen made no reply. He knew that to do so would be useless, and would probably increase the mate’s ill-temper. He shook Nat, who was sleeping near him, by the shoulder, and told him what the mate had ordered them to do. The rest of the men were still sleeping. As Owen and Nat went out of the tent they saw the mate take a bottle from a case which he had kept close to where he had slept, and fill up a tin cup. It was probably not the first draught he had taken that morning. Owen and Nat collected all the wood they could find, and piled it up a short distance from the tent. A light was struck, but it was some time before they could produce a flame.“Be quick there, boys, or you shall have a taste of the rope’s end,” shouted the mate from within the tent.“He seems in a terribly bad humour this morning,” said Nat.“I am afraid his temper will not improve if he continues to drink as he has begun to do,” answered Owen. “What I fear is, that the men will follow his example, and that nothing will be done to preserve our lives. However, it becomes the more necessary that we should exert ourselves, and use the sense God has given us.”“It seems strange that Mr Grey and the other officers should have been lost, and this one have been saved,” observed Nat.“We do not understand God’s ways; all we know is that He orders everything for the best,” answered Owen. “He may have allowed them to be drowned to save them from greater suffering.”They spoke in low whispers so that the mate could not hear them. By this time the sun had risen above the horizon. As the sky was unclouded its rays struck with great force on their bare heads, for they had lost their hats.“We must make some covering for our heads, or we shall be suffering from sun-stroke,” observed Owen. “What I dread most, however, is the want of water; we must search for it. I have heard that even on such sandy islands as this springs have been found. If we can discover one, it may be the means of saving our lives. Blow away, Nat, we shall soon have a blaze.”In a short time a brisk fire was burning. The other men now began to rouse up. The mate ordered Mike Coffey to act as cook. Among the articles saved was a large iron fish-kettle. The provisions were now turned over to discover what was most suitable for breakfast.“Shure the best way to cook the food will be to boil all together,” observed Mike. Having filled the kettle half full of water, he cut up whatever was brought to him; some beef, biscuits, a tin of preserved vegetables, a drowned fowl, and some handfuls of split peas. He had fixed over the fire a tripod of three poles, to which he hung his kettle, which Owen and Nat were told to watch in order to prevent the poles burning through.The mate sat in the tent, apparently with no intention of exerting himself, while the rest of the men wandered about in twos and threes along the shore, in search of anything that might have been cast up. It was possible, also, that they may have been discussing together the mate’s conduct, as every now and then one of them looked back at the tent to see if he was coming out. He sat still, evidently considering that the others were bound to obey him. By the time the seamen came back Mike’s porridge, as he called it, was ready. The lid of the kettle served as a dish, into which he baled it with a tin cup. How it was afterwards to be divided was the difficulty, as there were only three cup among the whole party.“I saw some big shells on the beach,” said Nat; “they will serve us for plates.”He and Owen went down and soon collected enough for all hands. The mate claimed his share first, and ordered a shell as well as his cup to be filled. The men looked at each other, but said nothing.Mike’s porridge was pronounced excellent.“Shure, mates, you shall have the same for dinner,” he said; “but there is one thing I’ve got to ask—how long is it to last? We have made a good hole in the beef cask already; we shall make a bigger one at dinner-time.”The men, however, did not listen to the Irishman’s remark, but as soon as the meal was over lay down, some in the shade of the tent, whilst others, indifferent to the heat of the sun, stretched themselves on the sand, exposed to its full force. Some had saved their pipes, others their tobacco, and the pipes being filled, were passed round. Precious time was thus lost which should have been employed in searching for provisions which might have been cast on shore.“Although others are idle it is no reason why we should be so,” observed Owen to Nat and Mike. “Come along, let us see what we can find.”Mike, though an Irishman, was a very steady fellow, and at once agreed to what Owen proposed. Nat was always ready, and they set out. They had not gone far when they found several casks and bales which had been washed out of the wreck.They dragged them up on the beach to wait an examination at a future time. They opened only one bale, which contained muslin.“Very little use this to us,” observed Nat. “On the contrary, it will be of the greatest service,” answered Owen. “We can make coverings with it for our heads, which will afford greater protection against the heat than any hats we could manufacture. My head has begun to ache already.”“Mr Hartley is right,” said Mike. “The Indian fellows out here always wear things of this sort on their heads.”Owen had no great notion how to form a turban, but he had seen pictures of Orientals, and was aware that their headdress consisted of long twists of muslin turned round and round. He immediately set to work, and fitted one to Nat’s head.“Shure you look like an illegint hathin,” said Mike. “Now, Mr Hartley, just plase to fit me with one like it.”Owen succeeded better even than he had in Nat’s case. He then made one for himself, and they all laughed heartily as they looked at each other.“If any Indians come this way they’ll be afther taking us for countrymen, and be friendly at once,” said Mike.“I don’t think there is much chance of that, but we shall save ourselves from sun-stroke, and I hope the rest of the men will follow our example,” answered Owen.“Shure there is some big black thing out there on the beach,” exclaimed Mike, pointing ahead. “What can it be?”“Can it be a big fish?” asked Nat.“It looks to me more like a piece of wreck,” said Owen.They hurried on, eager to ascertain what object it was.“Hurrah! it’s a boat,” cried Owen, who had kept ahead. On examination the boat was discovered to be the second cutter. The falls had been let go when no one was in her, and she had washed clear of the rocks right up to the sand-bank; she was, therefore, but little damaged.The carpenter had been drowned, but the carpenter’s mate had escaped, and was a good workman, and he might easily repair her and fit her for sea. She would not carry the whole of the party, but some might make their way to Batavia and get a vessel to return and take off the rest. Who, however, would have the command?The only person who was capable of navigating the boat, besides the first mate, was Owen himself. He had had but little experience of navigation, and still less of the management of a boat in a heavy sea. The first mate therefore was undoubtedly the proper person to go; but would he undertake the adventure?These thoughts passed through Owen’s mind as he and his companions were endeavouring to haul up the boat. Their strength was only sufficient to get her a short way up the beach, so that there would be no risk of her being washed off again. They continued their search, tempted onwards by seeing objects floating in the surf. The most valuable, undoubtedly, were three casks of water. They also found some kegs of spirits, the heads of which they knocked in, for Owen felt convinced that should the men get hold of them, they would attack the contents until they had lost their senses. Although a considerable quantity of provisions of various sorts had come ashore, some had been damaged by the sea water. Still, when all had been secured there was enough, with due economy, to last for several months, and, providing water could be found, they might live. But the precious fluid which had been saved would, even with a very short allowance to each man, soon be exhausted. Owen now proposed that they should go back and get some of the men to secure their prizes.On approaching the camp, however, they heard shouts and wild shrieks of laughter. It was evident that they had been following the example set them by the mate. They had got hold of a cask of spirits, which they had broached, as well as one of the beer casks. When Owen and his companions got up to the camp, their appearance elicited loud shouts of laughter, and cries of “Who are these young Turks? Where do you come from?” The men having amused themselves for some time, invited Owen, Nat, and Mike to sit down and drink with them.“We have no time to do that,” answered Owen; “but we want you to come and help us secure a number of articles we have found.”“Have you got any spirits or beer?” asked the men.“No,” said Owen; “but we have found some casks of water, which are of far more value.”This remark created a further laugh, and all united in inviting Mike to join them.“Do not you be persuaded,” said Owen. “In a short time, when the liquor is gone, they will be sorry that they exhausted it so soon.”The mate had not spoken, indeed he lay on the ground inside the tent in a worse condition than the men.“It will be impossible to remain with these people,” said Owen. “I propose, therefore, that we go to some distance, out of their sight, and make a tent for ourselves. We shall find sufficient materials from the bales of cotton cloth which have been washed up.”Mike and Nat agreed. “But, shure, they’ve got the iron kettle, and how are we to cook our mate without that?” exclaimed Mike.“We must roast our meat, and make use of shells for cups,” answered Owen; “anything would be better than remaining with them.”When the men saw that the two lads and Mike were going away, they shouted after them to stop, but finding that they were resolute, began to abuse them, Mike coming in for the largest share of vituperation. This made his temper rise.“Arrah! but I’ll be afther paying thim off for this,” he exclaimed.“Keep quiet, Mike,” said Owen, taking his arm; “you were doing what was right, and must not mind them.”Mike was at last pacified, and they went on, until they reached a part of the bank considerably higher than that where they had left their companions.By means of some spars they set up a framework which was easily covered by several folds of cotton cloth, so that in a short time they had a very comfortable tent. They then collected wood for a fire, rolled up one of the casks of water, and got together some of the provisions they had just discovered.Mike, however, continued to sigh for the fish-kettle.“We must manage to do without it, at all events for the present,” said Owen; “perhaps to-morrow you will find something which will answer the purpose. Here we shall have to remain until the men have drunk up all the spirits and beer, and then perhaps they will regain their senses, and steps may be taken to enable us to escape.”They could just distinguish the top of their shipmates’ tent, but their own being low, would not, they hoped, be observed, and they should thus escape molestation from any of the tipsy crew. That their fire might not be seen at night, Owen proposed to put it out.“We’ll not do chat, Mr Hartley,” said Mike. “We’ll just scrape the ashes into a hole, and put a little wood on them, and the fire will keep in until to-morrow morning, and so it will be ready for lighting, and save our matches.”As long as there was sufficient light they continued their search along the beach, and were rewarded by discovering a case which contained, among other articles, fish-hooks and lines. This was indeed a prize, for undoubtedly fish swarmed along the shore, and they might catch enough to supply themselves with food for an indefinite period. Still, Owen recollected that unless water was found they must perish.There was little chance of rain falling at that season of the year, and if it did, they had but scanty means for securing it. Still he endeavoured to overcome any gloomy anticipations about the future, and endeavoured to be prepared for all contingencies. Thus several days passed by. The party at the large tent continued their revels, as Owen discovered when going in that direction by hearing their voices singing and shouting; occasionally, too, from the noises which reached him, he suspected that they were quarrelling and fighting.At last Nat proposed that they should launch the boat, and try and make their escape from the island.“There are several reasons against our so doing,” answered Owen. “In the first place, the boat requires repairs; she has neither mast, nor sails, nor oars, and none of us three is well acquainted with the management of a boat. Wait patiently; when the liquor is gone we may perhaps get the boat repaired, and a crew to sail in her. The first thing I propose to do is to rig up a flagstaff, so that we may have a better chance of attracting a passing vessel; and as we have plenty of fuel, we ought to keep a good blaze during the night. This would have been done at first had the mate kept sober.”Owen and his two companions immediately set to work to carry out his suggestion. An ensign, although somewhat torn, had been washed on shore, and spars of various sizes lay on the beach. These they dragged to the highest part of the bank. By lashing them together they got a flagstaff nearly forty feet long. They found sufficient rope only for two stays, and having fixed one of the stays securely to the sand by the aid of stakes driven deep into it, the butt end was placed in the ground. Owen and Nat then going over to the opposite side hauled away, while Mike assisted to lift up the flagstaff, which was thus in a short time set up. Provided the wind remained moderate, they had no doubt that it would stand.“Should a vessel pass within four or five miles of the sand-bank it will, I hope, be seen,” observed Owen, “and it may be visible even further off, if the weather is clear.”Owen had at first entertained some fears that Mike would join the other party, but the Irishman remained faithful, and did with alacrity everything he advised.For a whole day or more none of the men had been seen, nor had any sound come from the direction of the camp. Owen began to fear that something might have happened to them. Mike offered towards night to go and ascertain how matters stood.“Just keep up a bit of a fire to light me back,” he said. “I’ll soon find out if they are sleeping all this time.”He set off, and Owen and Nat waited some time expecting his return. Still he did not come back. They began to fear that an accident had happened to him, or that he might have remained, notwithstanding his good intentions, with his drunken shipmates.At last they heard some one approaching.“All right!” cried Mike; “I’ve got the fish-kettle into the bargain. Every man alive of them is fast asleep, for they have drunk out the last drop of their liquor. I sounded each cask, and made sure it was empty. They will for a good reason be sober enough now.”“Now we have got the fish-kettle we will make use of it; but I wish, Mike, you would return it, as they will otherwise justly accuse us of stealing it.”“Shure, we have as good a right to it as they have,” answered Mike; “it will be a mighty long time before they want it, and, seeing that their fire has gone out, even if they get the kettle they can’t use it at all at all.”“When they want fire, we must, however, give it to them,” observed Owen; “because some of them have behaved ill to us, we must not refuse to help them.”“If they find out that we have got a store of water, they will be coming to drink it all up, and we shall be left without any,” said Mike.“Still we must try to help them when they require assistance,” observed Owen.“Would it not be wise to hide our casks of water in the sand?” suggested Nat; “then if they come and ask for it, we can give them a little at a time, and they will value it the more.”“A very good idea,” said Owen.Nat’s suggestion was forthwith acted upon; and with some staves of one of the broken casks they dug holes in the higher part of the sand-bank, in which they concealed two casks of the precious fluid, covering them carefully over again, so that they were not likely to be discovered. The water was thus kept cooler than it would have been if left exposed to the hot sun. This being done, Mike lost no time in cooking a supply of “his porridge,” as he called it, sufficient for their supper and for the next day.They all felt the better for the comfortable meal, and lay down to rest, grateful for the protection hitherto afforded them.Mike had volunteered to get up every two or three hours to see if the beacon-fire which they had lit was blazing up.Owen and Nat had been sleeping for a couple of hours or more, when they were aroused by Mike’s voice.“Bedad! but the weather has changed entirely, and our beautiful fire has gone flying away right over the island,” he exclaimed.Owen and Nat started up. A fierce gale was raging, threatening every instant to carry away their tent; while the sea, which had hitherto only lapped the edge of the sand-bank, now came foaming up against it in heavy billows.“The boat, the boat!” cried Owen. “Our first care must be to secure her, if she is not knocked to pieces already. She is of more importance than the tent or anything else.” They hurried off to where the boat lay, some little distance from their tent. They were but just in time, as already the sea had driven her broadside to the beach and had begun to break into her. She was already nearly half full of water, and, being thus very heavy, they could only drag her up a foot or two. Fortunately there came a lull.“If we had anything to bale her out with we might succeed,” observed Owen.“The lid of the kettle will be the thing,” cried Mike. “Nat, run and get it!”Nat was not a couple of minutes away, and, jumping into the boat, he baled away with all his might, while Mike and Owen endeavoured to drag her up. The greater part of the water having been baled out of her they succeeded better than at first, and at length got her, as they hoped, beyond the reach of the seas. The stake to which she was secured was then carried up as far as the painter would allow, and then fixed as deeply as possible into the sand. The tent had withstood the wind, and they further secured it by placing the casks and bales on the lower part of the cloth, so that, although it might be torn, it was not likely to be carried bodily away. They were thus engaged when they heard shouts and cries coming from the direction of the camp. The cause was too evident. The sea, driven by the wind, had risen considerably, and was rolling much further up the higher part of the bank than it had hitherto done. Too probably, therefore, it was sweeping over the lower end, on which their shipmates had remained.“The sea must have caught them while they were still asleep, and they have only just discovered their danger,” exclaimed Owen. “They won’t know in which direction to run, and they are not aware of this higher spot on which they might take refuge.”“Thin the best way will be to light up a bit of fire to show them the way,” said Mike. “There are a few embers up there still burning.”Mike and Nat quickly collected some of the burning pieces of wood, and a small fire was soon blazing up. It required constant watchfulness, however, to prevent it from being blown away. In the meantime Owen and his companions shouted together at the top of their voices.Again and again cries were heard. Owen proposed starting off to guide them to the only spot where safety could be found, but Mike and Nat entreated him not to make the attempt. Indeed it was evident that he would run great risk of being lost. Already the white foam could be seen through the darkness like masses of snow sweeping over the intermediate space between them and the camp, where the ground was apparently of a somewhat lower level.Although possibly their companions were on somewhat higher ground, yet at any moment the sea might sweep over it. The three shouted and shouted again. At last they heard voices crying out in reply, but it was too dark to enable them to distinguish any one. All this time the boat, their tent, and the flagstaff were running great risk of being carried away. But the preservation of their fellow-creatures was of more consequence than anything else. At length they caught sight of a figure emerging from the gloom, rushing through the seething water which swept by him. The party on the sand-bank shouted to encourage him. Now he stopped, afraid of being carried off his legs.“On, on!” shouted Owen, who had brought from the tent a long line of tolerable thickness.“Hold on to this,” he cried to Mike and Nat. “I will fasten it round my waist, and should any of the men be knocked down, I will try and save them.”Such appeared very likely to happen to the person they saw approaching them. Already he seemed half covered with foam. Again, however, the sea receded, and taking courage he rushed forward, and Owen, catching him in his arms, dragged him up. He proved to be the carpenter’s mate. Just then two more people appeared, making their way towards the beacon-fire. They were followed by a third, who quickly overtook them, and pushing on without hesitation soon reached the bank. Owen recognised Mr Scoones.“I am glad you are safe, sir,” said Owen.“No thanks to these fellows, for no one roused me when they saw the sea breaking close up to their feet.”Of the two other men who were making their way, one hesitated, while the other, following the example of the mate, rushed boldly forward. He was within a few yards of the bank, when the sea, sweeping by as it receded, rose up to his middle. He vainly attempted to stem it; he was lifted off his feet, and was being hurried out among the breakers when Owen, springing forward into the receding water as it swept round the sand-bank, caught him by the arm, and they were both pulled up by their companions.“Thank you, sir,” said the man, whose name was Bill Pratt, generally called Bill, and who was a well-conducted fellow when sober. “I owe you a good turn for this, Mr Hartley.”The mate and the other men had thrown themselves down, overcome by their exertions. The fourth man was yet some distance off, and as another sea came rolling up, he was lifted off his feet. He shrieked wildly for help, but had he been even a good swimmer no strength of arm could have saved him.In an instant the foaming waters closed over his head, and although Owen stood ready to plunge in and attempt to save him, he could nowhere be seen. His was probably the fate of the rest. Three or four other figures were seen for an instant making their way towards the fire; then they suddenly disappeared. Owen waited a short time, but no one else came.“Stay by the fire, Nat,” he said; “we must now look after the boat.”He hurriedly told the mate that the boat had been washed on shore, and begged him and the two other men to assist in securing her, as he was afraid every instant that she would be lost. Although scarcely yet recovered from his debauch, the mate was sufficiently alive to the importance of this object not to hesitate. Leaving Nat to watch the beacon-fire, the whole party set off to where the boat had been left. They found her in even a worse condition than she had been before. The sea was beating against her with great force, and would in a few minutes have rendered her a complete wreck.Owen, who had thoughtfully brought the lid of the kettle with him, jumped in and baled her out, while the rest, uniting their strength, got her head round, and by great exertions Mike and Bill, putting their shoulders under her, managed to drag her up early to the highest part of the bank.“If the sea does her any harm here, it won’t much matter, for we shall all be swept away at the same time,” observed the mate.As they were returning to the tent, a crash was heard; the flagstaff had gone. It was useless attempting to put it up that night, and they returned to the tent, where the mate, throwing himself down, declared that he was too much fatigued to work any more.Owen, still hoping that more men might be saved, joined Nat to watch at the beacon-fire. Should any one be seen they would be ready to give them help. But after watching for some time in vain, they returned together to the tent with hearts saddened at the thought that so many of their shipmates had lost their lives mainly through their own folly. The condition of the survivors was still perilous in the extreme. The sea, as far as they could judge, was still rising, and might at any moment overwhelm them. The gale raged as fiercely as at first. The rain, so unusual in that latitude, came down in torrents. Had they prepared anything for catching it, it would have proved of the greatest benefit. Owen recollected the bale of cotton cloth. He called Nat and Mike to undo it. They cut off a couple of lengths, which they held over the empty fish-kettle, and by stretching it tightly the rain ran off it into the fish-kettle, which was quickly filled. Two of the casks, out of which Owen had emptied the spirits they had contained, lay near the tent. He immediately brought one of them and filled it with the precious fluid which had been obtained.“Quick—quick,” he cried, as he replaced the fish kettle; “let us have the other cask, not a drop of water must be lost if we can help it.” Bill Pratt, the carpenter’s mate, who, seeing what they were about? had joined them, rolled up the cask, and that also was nearly filled when the rain ceased.“That cask has had better stuff in it than water not long ago,” observed Bill, putting his nose to the bung-hole.“It was the stuff which caused the death of so many of our poor shipmates, and has brought thousands and tens of thousands of others to ruin and death,” answered Owen. “Before long, you would thankfully exchange a dozen casks of spirits, if you had them, for one cup of such pure water as we have just obtained. If we are wise we shall collect all the empty casks we can find, and be ready to fill them should another shower fall.”“Ah, sir, I believe you are right; and I wish that others had had as little love for liquor as you have, and we shouldn’t have been where we now are, with our stout ship knocked to pieces,” said Bill, glancing at the mate who lay asleep in the tent.“We have now to do our best, and pray to God for deliverance,” observed Owen. “Perhaps we shall be blessed with another shower, and be able to fill up this cask, and any others we can find.”Although the rain had ceased, the wind blew as hard as ever. Still the water rose until the white foam reached almost close up to the spot on which their tent stood. A few minutes more might decide their fate. Owen felt deeply the awfulness of their situation. Ere long he and his companions might be standing in the presence of their Maker.Throughout that live-long night the shipwrecked group sat beneath their tent on that narrow strip of sand. Its length they had not ascertained, but its width, as far as they could judge, was now scarcely fifty yards across. They waited on, knowing that, should the tide rise high, a single wave might sweep them all off. Mike proposed getting into the boat, there to await their fate.“She would not live ten minutes with such a sea running outside. Without oars to steer her, we should be worse off than we are now,” answered Bill Pratt.And thus they sat on and on, anxiously watching for daylight.

Owen was awakened by a kick in the side.

“Rouse out, there, you lazy young rascal. Light the fire, and get the breakfast ready,” said the person who had thus rudely disturbed his slumbers.

Glancing up, he saw the first mate standing over him. He sprang to his feet, looking, as he felt, much astonished at the treatment he had received.

“Call the other boy to help you,” continued Mr Scoones. “Be sharp about it.”

Owen made no reply. He knew that to do so would be useless, and would probably increase the mate’s ill-temper. He shook Nat, who was sleeping near him, by the shoulder, and told him what the mate had ordered them to do. The rest of the men were still sleeping. As Owen and Nat went out of the tent they saw the mate take a bottle from a case which he had kept close to where he had slept, and fill up a tin cup. It was probably not the first draught he had taken that morning. Owen and Nat collected all the wood they could find, and piled it up a short distance from the tent. A light was struck, but it was some time before they could produce a flame.

“Be quick there, boys, or you shall have a taste of the rope’s end,” shouted the mate from within the tent.

“He seems in a terribly bad humour this morning,” said Nat.

“I am afraid his temper will not improve if he continues to drink as he has begun to do,” answered Owen. “What I fear is, that the men will follow his example, and that nothing will be done to preserve our lives. However, it becomes the more necessary that we should exert ourselves, and use the sense God has given us.”

“It seems strange that Mr Grey and the other officers should have been lost, and this one have been saved,” observed Nat.

“We do not understand God’s ways; all we know is that He orders everything for the best,” answered Owen. “He may have allowed them to be drowned to save them from greater suffering.”

They spoke in low whispers so that the mate could not hear them. By this time the sun had risen above the horizon. As the sky was unclouded its rays struck with great force on their bare heads, for they had lost their hats.

“We must make some covering for our heads, or we shall be suffering from sun-stroke,” observed Owen. “What I dread most, however, is the want of water; we must search for it. I have heard that even on such sandy islands as this springs have been found. If we can discover one, it may be the means of saving our lives. Blow away, Nat, we shall soon have a blaze.”

In a short time a brisk fire was burning. The other men now began to rouse up. The mate ordered Mike Coffey to act as cook. Among the articles saved was a large iron fish-kettle. The provisions were now turned over to discover what was most suitable for breakfast.

“Shure the best way to cook the food will be to boil all together,” observed Mike. Having filled the kettle half full of water, he cut up whatever was brought to him; some beef, biscuits, a tin of preserved vegetables, a drowned fowl, and some handfuls of split peas. He had fixed over the fire a tripod of three poles, to which he hung his kettle, which Owen and Nat were told to watch in order to prevent the poles burning through.

The mate sat in the tent, apparently with no intention of exerting himself, while the rest of the men wandered about in twos and threes along the shore, in search of anything that might have been cast up. It was possible, also, that they may have been discussing together the mate’s conduct, as every now and then one of them looked back at the tent to see if he was coming out. He sat still, evidently considering that the others were bound to obey him. By the time the seamen came back Mike’s porridge, as he called it, was ready. The lid of the kettle served as a dish, into which he baled it with a tin cup. How it was afterwards to be divided was the difficulty, as there were only three cup among the whole party.

“I saw some big shells on the beach,” said Nat; “they will serve us for plates.”

He and Owen went down and soon collected enough for all hands. The mate claimed his share first, and ordered a shell as well as his cup to be filled. The men looked at each other, but said nothing.

Mike’s porridge was pronounced excellent.

“Shure, mates, you shall have the same for dinner,” he said; “but there is one thing I’ve got to ask—how long is it to last? We have made a good hole in the beef cask already; we shall make a bigger one at dinner-time.”

The men, however, did not listen to the Irishman’s remark, but as soon as the meal was over lay down, some in the shade of the tent, whilst others, indifferent to the heat of the sun, stretched themselves on the sand, exposed to its full force. Some had saved their pipes, others their tobacco, and the pipes being filled, were passed round. Precious time was thus lost which should have been employed in searching for provisions which might have been cast on shore.

“Although others are idle it is no reason why we should be so,” observed Owen to Nat and Mike. “Come along, let us see what we can find.”

Mike, though an Irishman, was a very steady fellow, and at once agreed to what Owen proposed. Nat was always ready, and they set out. They had not gone far when they found several casks and bales which had been washed out of the wreck.

They dragged them up on the beach to wait an examination at a future time. They opened only one bale, which contained muslin.

“Very little use this to us,” observed Nat. “On the contrary, it will be of the greatest service,” answered Owen. “We can make coverings with it for our heads, which will afford greater protection against the heat than any hats we could manufacture. My head has begun to ache already.”

“Mr Hartley is right,” said Mike. “The Indian fellows out here always wear things of this sort on their heads.”

Owen had no great notion how to form a turban, but he had seen pictures of Orientals, and was aware that their headdress consisted of long twists of muslin turned round and round. He immediately set to work, and fitted one to Nat’s head.

“Shure you look like an illegint hathin,” said Mike. “Now, Mr Hartley, just plase to fit me with one like it.”

Owen succeeded better even than he had in Nat’s case. He then made one for himself, and they all laughed heartily as they looked at each other.

“If any Indians come this way they’ll be afther taking us for countrymen, and be friendly at once,” said Mike.

“I don’t think there is much chance of that, but we shall save ourselves from sun-stroke, and I hope the rest of the men will follow our example,” answered Owen.

“Shure there is some big black thing out there on the beach,” exclaimed Mike, pointing ahead. “What can it be?”

“Can it be a big fish?” asked Nat.

“It looks to me more like a piece of wreck,” said Owen.

They hurried on, eager to ascertain what object it was.

“Hurrah! it’s a boat,” cried Owen, who had kept ahead. On examination the boat was discovered to be the second cutter. The falls had been let go when no one was in her, and she had washed clear of the rocks right up to the sand-bank; she was, therefore, but little damaged.

The carpenter had been drowned, but the carpenter’s mate had escaped, and was a good workman, and he might easily repair her and fit her for sea. She would not carry the whole of the party, but some might make their way to Batavia and get a vessel to return and take off the rest. Who, however, would have the command?

The only person who was capable of navigating the boat, besides the first mate, was Owen himself. He had had but little experience of navigation, and still less of the management of a boat in a heavy sea. The first mate therefore was undoubtedly the proper person to go; but would he undertake the adventure?

These thoughts passed through Owen’s mind as he and his companions were endeavouring to haul up the boat. Their strength was only sufficient to get her a short way up the beach, so that there would be no risk of her being washed off again. They continued their search, tempted onwards by seeing objects floating in the surf. The most valuable, undoubtedly, were three casks of water. They also found some kegs of spirits, the heads of which they knocked in, for Owen felt convinced that should the men get hold of them, they would attack the contents until they had lost their senses. Although a considerable quantity of provisions of various sorts had come ashore, some had been damaged by the sea water. Still, when all had been secured there was enough, with due economy, to last for several months, and, providing water could be found, they might live. But the precious fluid which had been saved would, even with a very short allowance to each man, soon be exhausted. Owen now proposed that they should go back and get some of the men to secure their prizes.

On approaching the camp, however, they heard shouts and wild shrieks of laughter. It was evident that they had been following the example set them by the mate. They had got hold of a cask of spirits, which they had broached, as well as one of the beer casks. When Owen and his companions got up to the camp, their appearance elicited loud shouts of laughter, and cries of “Who are these young Turks? Where do you come from?” The men having amused themselves for some time, invited Owen, Nat, and Mike to sit down and drink with them.

“We have no time to do that,” answered Owen; “but we want you to come and help us secure a number of articles we have found.”

“Have you got any spirits or beer?” asked the men.

“No,” said Owen; “but we have found some casks of water, which are of far more value.”

This remark created a further laugh, and all united in inviting Mike to join them.

“Do not you be persuaded,” said Owen. “In a short time, when the liquor is gone, they will be sorry that they exhausted it so soon.”

The mate had not spoken, indeed he lay on the ground inside the tent in a worse condition than the men.

“It will be impossible to remain with these people,” said Owen. “I propose, therefore, that we go to some distance, out of their sight, and make a tent for ourselves. We shall find sufficient materials from the bales of cotton cloth which have been washed up.”

Mike and Nat agreed. “But, shure, they’ve got the iron kettle, and how are we to cook our mate without that?” exclaimed Mike.

“We must roast our meat, and make use of shells for cups,” answered Owen; “anything would be better than remaining with them.”

When the men saw that the two lads and Mike were going away, they shouted after them to stop, but finding that they were resolute, began to abuse them, Mike coming in for the largest share of vituperation. This made his temper rise.

“Arrah! but I’ll be afther paying thim off for this,” he exclaimed.

“Keep quiet, Mike,” said Owen, taking his arm; “you were doing what was right, and must not mind them.”

Mike was at last pacified, and they went on, until they reached a part of the bank considerably higher than that where they had left their companions.

By means of some spars they set up a framework which was easily covered by several folds of cotton cloth, so that in a short time they had a very comfortable tent. They then collected wood for a fire, rolled up one of the casks of water, and got together some of the provisions they had just discovered.

Mike, however, continued to sigh for the fish-kettle.

“We must manage to do without it, at all events for the present,” said Owen; “perhaps to-morrow you will find something which will answer the purpose. Here we shall have to remain until the men have drunk up all the spirits and beer, and then perhaps they will regain their senses, and steps may be taken to enable us to escape.”

They could just distinguish the top of their shipmates’ tent, but their own being low, would not, they hoped, be observed, and they should thus escape molestation from any of the tipsy crew. That their fire might not be seen at night, Owen proposed to put it out.

“We’ll not do chat, Mr Hartley,” said Mike. “We’ll just scrape the ashes into a hole, and put a little wood on them, and the fire will keep in until to-morrow morning, and so it will be ready for lighting, and save our matches.”

As long as there was sufficient light they continued their search along the beach, and were rewarded by discovering a case which contained, among other articles, fish-hooks and lines. This was indeed a prize, for undoubtedly fish swarmed along the shore, and they might catch enough to supply themselves with food for an indefinite period. Still, Owen recollected that unless water was found they must perish.

There was little chance of rain falling at that season of the year, and if it did, they had but scanty means for securing it. Still he endeavoured to overcome any gloomy anticipations about the future, and endeavoured to be prepared for all contingencies. Thus several days passed by. The party at the large tent continued their revels, as Owen discovered when going in that direction by hearing their voices singing and shouting; occasionally, too, from the noises which reached him, he suspected that they were quarrelling and fighting.

At last Nat proposed that they should launch the boat, and try and make their escape from the island.

“There are several reasons against our so doing,” answered Owen. “In the first place, the boat requires repairs; she has neither mast, nor sails, nor oars, and none of us three is well acquainted with the management of a boat. Wait patiently; when the liquor is gone we may perhaps get the boat repaired, and a crew to sail in her. The first thing I propose to do is to rig up a flagstaff, so that we may have a better chance of attracting a passing vessel; and as we have plenty of fuel, we ought to keep a good blaze during the night. This would have been done at first had the mate kept sober.”

Owen and his two companions immediately set to work to carry out his suggestion. An ensign, although somewhat torn, had been washed on shore, and spars of various sizes lay on the beach. These they dragged to the highest part of the bank. By lashing them together they got a flagstaff nearly forty feet long. They found sufficient rope only for two stays, and having fixed one of the stays securely to the sand by the aid of stakes driven deep into it, the butt end was placed in the ground. Owen and Nat then going over to the opposite side hauled away, while Mike assisted to lift up the flagstaff, which was thus in a short time set up. Provided the wind remained moderate, they had no doubt that it would stand.

“Should a vessel pass within four or five miles of the sand-bank it will, I hope, be seen,” observed Owen, “and it may be visible even further off, if the weather is clear.”

Owen had at first entertained some fears that Mike would join the other party, but the Irishman remained faithful, and did with alacrity everything he advised.

For a whole day or more none of the men had been seen, nor had any sound come from the direction of the camp. Owen began to fear that something might have happened to them. Mike offered towards night to go and ascertain how matters stood.

“Just keep up a bit of a fire to light me back,” he said. “I’ll soon find out if they are sleeping all this time.”

He set off, and Owen and Nat waited some time expecting his return. Still he did not come back. They began to fear that an accident had happened to him, or that he might have remained, notwithstanding his good intentions, with his drunken shipmates.

At last they heard some one approaching.

“All right!” cried Mike; “I’ve got the fish-kettle into the bargain. Every man alive of them is fast asleep, for they have drunk out the last drop of their liquor. I sounded each cask, and made sure it was empty. They will for a good reason be sober enough now.”

“Now we have got the fish-kettle we will make use of it; but I wish, Mike, you would return it, as they will otherwise justly accuse us of stealing it.”

“Shure, we have as good a right to it as they have,” answered Mike; “it will be a mighty long time before they want it, and, seeing that their fire has gone out, even if they get the kettle they can’t use it at all at all.”

“When they want fire, we must, however, give it to them,” observed Owen; “because some of them have behaved ill to us, we must not refuse to help them.”

“If they find out that we have got a store of water, they will be coming to drink it all up, and we shall be left without any,” said Mike.

“Still we must try to help them when they require assistance,” observed Owen.

“Would it not be wise to hide our casks of water in the sand?” suggested Nat; “then if they come and ask for it, we can give them a little at a time, and they will value it the more.”

“A very good idea,” said Owen.

Nat’s suggestion was forthwith acted upon; and with some staves of one of the broken casks they dug holes in the higher part of the sand-bank, in which they concealed two casks of the precious fluid, covering them carefully over again, so that they were not likely to be discovered. The water was thus kept cooler than it would have been if left exposed to the hot sun. This being done, Mike lost no time in cooking a supply of “his porridge,” as he called it, sufficient for their supper and for the next day.

They all felt the better for the comfortable meal, and lay down to rest, grateful for the protection hitherto afforded them.

Mike had volunteered to get up every two or three hours to see if the beacon-fire which they had lit was blazing up.

Owen and Nat had been sleeping for a couple of hours or more, when they were aroused by Mike’s voice.

“Bedad! but the weather has changed entirely, and our beautiful fire has gone flying away right over the island,” he exclaimed.

Owen and Nat started up. A fierce gale was raging, threatening every instant to carry away their tent; while the sea, which had hitherto only lapped the edge of the sand-bank, now came foaming up against it in heavy billows.

“The boat, the boat!” cried Owen. “Our first care must be to secure her, if she is not knocked to pieces already. She is of more importance than the tent or anything else.” They hurried off to where the boat lay, some little distance from their tent. They were but just in time, as already the sea had driven her broadside to the beach and had begun to break into her. She was already nearly half full of water, and, being thus very heavy, they could only drag her up a foot or two. Fortunately there came a lull.

“If we had anything to bale her out with we might succeed,” observed Owen.

“The lid of the kettle will be the thing,” cried Mike. “Nat, run and get it!”

Nat was not a couple of minutes away, and, jumping into the boat, he baled away with all his might, while Mike and Owen endeavoured to drag her up. The greater part of the water having been baled out of her they succeeded better than at first, and at length got her, as they hoped, beyond the reach of the seas. The stake to which she was secured was then carried up as far as the painter would allow, and then fixed as deeply as possible into the sand. The tent had withstood the wind, and they further secured it by placing the casks and bales on the lower part of the cloth, so that, although it might be torn, it was not likely to be carried bodily away. They were thus engaged when they heard shouts and cries coming from the direction of the camp. The cause was too evident. The sea, driven by the wind, had risen considerably, and was rolling much further up the higher part of the bank than it had hitherto done. Too probably, therefore, it was sweeping over the lower end, on which their shipmates had remained.

“The sea must have caught them while they were still asleep, and they have only just discovered their danger,” exclaimed Owen. “They won’t know in which direction to run, and they are not aware of this higher spot on which they might take refuge.”

“Thin the best way will be to light up a bit of fire to show them the way,” said Mike. “There are a few embers up there still burning.”

Mike and Nat quickly collected some of the burning pieces of wood, and a small fire was soon blazing up. It required constant watchfulness, however, to prevent it from being blown away. In the meantime Owen and his companions shouted together at the top of their voices.

Again and again cries were heard. Owen proposed starting off to guide them to the only spot where safety could be found, but Mike and Nat entreated him not to make the attempt. Indeed it was evident that he would run great risk of being lost. Already the white foam could be seen through the darkness like masses of snow sweeping over the intermediate space between them and the camp, where the ground was apparently of a somewhat lower level.

Although possibly their companions were on somewhat higher ground, yet at any moment the sea might sweep over it. The three shouted and shouted again. At last they heard voices crying out in reply, but it was too dark to enable them to distinguish any one. All this time the boat, their tent, and the flagstaff were running great risk of being carried away. But the preservation of their fellow-creatures was of more consequence than anything else. At length they caught sight of a figure emerging from the gloom, rushing through the seething water which swept by him. The party on the sand-bank shouted to encourage him. Now he stopped, afraid of being carried off his legs.

“On, on!” shouted Owen, who had brought from the tent a long line of tolerable thickness.

“Hold on to this,” he cried to Mike and Nat. “I will fasten it round my waist, and should any of the men be knocked down, I will try and save them.”

Such appeared very likely to happen to the person they saw approaching them. Already he seemed half covered with foam. Again, however, the sea receded, and taking courage he rushed forward, and Owen, catching him in his arms, dragged him up. He proved to be the carpenter’s mate. Just then two more people appeared, making their way towards the beacon-fire. They were followed by a third, who quickly overtook them, and pushing on without hesitation soon reached the bank. Owen recognised Mr Scoones.

“I am glad you are safe, sir,” said Owen.

“No thanks to these fellows, for no one roused me when they saw the sea breaking close up to their feet.”

Of the two other men who were making their way, one hesitated, while the other, following the example of the mate, rushed boldly forward. He was within a few yards of the bank, when the sea, sweeping by as it receded, rose up to his middle. He vainly attempted to stem it; he was lifted off his feet, and was being hurried out among the breakers when Owen, springing forward into the receding water as it swept round the sand-bank, caught him by the arm, and they were both pulled up by their companions.

“Thank you, sir,” said the man, whose name was Bill Pratt, generally called Bill, and who was a well-conducted fellow when sober. “I owe you a good turn for this, Mr Hartley.”

The mate and the other men had thrown themselves down, overcome by their exertions. The fourth man was yet some distance off, and as another sea came rolling up, he was lifted off his feet. He shrieked wildly for help, but had he been even a good swimmer no strength of arm could have saved him.

In an instant the foaming waters closed over his head, and although Owen stood ready to plunge in and attempt to save him, he could nowhere be seen. His was probably the fate of the rest. Three or four other figures were seen for an instant making their way towards the fire; then they suddenly disappeared. Owen waited a short time, but no one else came.

“Stay by the fire, Nat,” he said; “we must now look after the boat.”

He hurriedly told the mate that the boat had been washed on shore, and begged him and the two other men to assist in securing her, as he was afraid every instant that she would be lost. Although scarcely yet recovered from his debauch, the mate was sufficiently alive to the importance of this object not to hesitate. Leaving Nat to watch the beacon-fire, the whole party set off to where the boat had been left. They found her in even a worse condition than she had been before. The sea was beating against her with great force, and would in a few minutes have rendered her a complete wreck.

Owen, who had thoughtfully brought the lid of the kettle with him, jumped in and baled her out, while the rest, uniting their strength, got her head round, and by great exertions Mike and Bill, putting their shoulders under her, managed to drag her up early to the highest part of the bank.

“If the sea does her any harm here, it won’t much matter, for we shall all be swept away at the same time,” observed the mate.

As they were returning to the tent, a crash was heard; the flagstaff had gone. It was useless attempting to put it up that night, and they returned to the tent, where the mate, throwing himself down, declared that he was too much fatigued to work any more.

Owen, still hoping that more men might be saved, joined Nat to watch at the beacon-fire. Should any one be seen they would be ready to give them help. But after watching for some time in vain, they returned together to the tent with hearts saddened at the thought that so many of their shipmates had lost their lives mainly through their own folly. The condition of the survivors was still perilous in the extreme. The sea, as far as they could judge, was still rising, and might at any moment overwhelm them. The gale raged as fiercely as at first. The rain, so unusual in that latitude, came down in torrents. Had they prepared anything for catching it, it would have proved of the greatest benefit. Owen recollected the bale of cotton cloth. He called Nat and Mike to undo it. They cut off a couple of lengths, which they held over the empty fish-kettle, and by stretching it tightly the rain ran off it into the fish-kettle, which was quickly filled. Two of the casks, out of which Owen had emptied the spirits they had contained, lay near the tent. He immediately brought one of them and filled it with the precious fluid which had been obtained.

“Quick—quick,” he cried, as he replaced the fish kettle; “let us have the other cask, not a drop of water must be lost if we can help it.” Bill Pratt, the carpenter’s mate, who, seeing what they were about? had joined them, rolled up the cask, and that also was nearly filled when the rain ceased.

“That cask has had better stuff in it than water not long ago,” observed Bill, putting his nose to the bung-hole.

“It was the stuff which caused the death of so many of our poor shipmates, and has brought thousands and tens of thousands of others to ruin and death,” answered Owen. “Before long, you would thankfully exchange a dozen casks of spirits, if you had them, for one cup of such pure water as we have just obtained. If we are wise we shall collect all the empty casks we can find, and be ready to fill them should another shower fall.”

“Ah, sir, I believe you are right; and I wish that others had had as little love for liquor as you have, and we shouldn’t have been where we now are, with our stout ship knocked to pieces,” said Bill, glancing at the mate who lay asleep in the tent.

“We have now to do our best, and pray to God for deliverance,” observed Owen. “Perhaps we shall be blessed with another shower, and be able to fill up this cask, and any others we can find.”

Although the rain had ceased, the wind blew as hard as ever. Still the water rose until the white foam reached almost close up to the spot on which their tent stood. A few minutes more might decide their fate. Owen felt deeply the awfulness of their situation. Ere long he and his companions might be standing in the presence of their Maker.

Throughout that live-long night the shipwrecked group sat beneath their tent on that narrow strip of sand. Its length they had not ascertained, but its width, as far as they could judge, was now scarcely fifty yards across. They waited on, knowing that, should the tide rise high, a single wave might sweep them all off. Mike proposed getting into the boat, there to await their fate.

“She would not live ten minutes with such a sea running outside. Without oars to steer her, we should be worse off than we are now,” answered Bill Pratt.

And thus they sat on and on, anxiously watching for daylight.

Chapter Seven.Dawn at last appeared, and as the light increased, Owen and his companions on looking out discovered, to their joy, that the water had gone down considerably, and that other parts of the sand-bank were appearing above the hissing foam, although the water at intervals still swept around them. The wind, also, had abated. Their first care was to look after the boat. She lay broadside to the beach, proving that she had been in no small danger of being carried off, but happily she had escaped any serious damage. Small as she was, she would carry their now diminished company.They all agreed that it was important that they should get away with as little delay as possible from the sand-bank, and either reach some higher island or make their way to Batavia. There was a possibility also of their being picked up by some passing vessel. Owen, who knew that the distance to the Straits of Sunda could not be much less than 800 miles, and perhaps very much more, earnestly hoped that they might be fortunate enough to meet with a vessel.Although the mate talked of going to Batavia he seemed far less confident in his manner than usual; indeed he appeared greatly out of spirits.“Do you think, sir, that we could make Batavia?” asked Owen, finding himself alone with the mate.“Yes, and we might go twice as far in our boat; but you have got a head on your shoulders, as you have lately shown, and should recollect that we cannot make a voyage of five or six days without water, and we may be twice as long as that. Why, those small casks you have will be exhausted before the boat can be got ready.”The mate’s spirits rose considerably when Owen in reply told him that there were two other casks concealed in the sand. “Oh, then we need not stint ourselves as we have been doing,” he answered. “We shall probably get another shower before long, only I wish that we had some good liquor to mix with it.”“But we may not get a shower, and the small supply we possess can only, with the greatest economy, last us two or three weeks,” remarked Owen.The mate did not reply, but shortly afterwards, going to one of the casks, took a large draught of water. His thirst seemed insatiable—again and again he applied his mouth to the cask—had it contained spirits he would have done the same, and would speedily have become as tipsy as before. Owen was thankful that such was not the case, but regretted having told the mate, who had thus exhibited his utter selfishness, of the two casks concealed in the sand. He resolved at length to appeal to the men, and to advise them to insist that an equal and limited allowance of water should be served out to each person, a measure absolutely necessary for the preservation of their lives. Bill Pratt, to whom he first spoke, agreed to this, as did the rest, and Bill undertook to be the spokesman. The mate was overawed, and having drunk as much water as he just then required, sulkily agreed to the proposal.Happily, in a short time, another large cloud was seen coming up with the wind, the last, apparently, of the vast mass which had lately overhung the sand-bank; the casks were got ready, the cloth stretched out. Anxiously the shipwrecked seamen gazed at the approaching cloud. The rain was seen falling into the sea. Would it cease before it reached them? On it slowly came. They could hear the precious rain as it reached the ocean. In another instant down it came upon them. The casks were filled. With proper economy they would have enough water to last them for many a day. How to repair the boat was the next question. The tools and nails which Owen and Nat had saved had been left at the camp, and, too probably, had been washed away. Unless they could find some more tools in one of the chests thrown up they could scarcely hope to fit the boat for sea. There were spars and planks enough, but they could not shape them with their knives alone for the purpose. They searched in vain, however, and found only a few nails sticking in some of the planks, but not a tool of any description. Nat had set out to look along the beach, while the rest of the party were consulting about the boat. He made his way in the direction of the camp.As the tide had now fallen to its usual level, the intermediate ground was perfectly dry. He had been absent for some time. The mate directed the rest of the party to collect all the spars, planks, and cordage they could find.“We might live on here for months, lads,” said Mr Scoones, “but should another gale spring up somewhat rougher than the last, we may all be swept away; so depend upon it, the sooner we get off this sand-bank the better. Where there’s a will there’s a way; and as we have no other tools we must do the best we can with our knives. It will be a long business, and we must take care not to break them. The first thing we have to do is to stop the leaks in the boat; we must then form some oars from the spars we have got and the staves of the casks. They won’t be very shapely, but they will serve to move the boat along, and the ends of the ropes will afford us oakum. We have cotton enough to make a suit of sails, although they might not be fit to stand a strong wind. We have also spars for masts and yards.”The mate having got over his drunken fit, was now completely himself again, and, although he was occasionally surly and overhearing, Owen was thankful that he had been saved. He was certainly better able to carry out the proposed plans than any one else.Owen suggested that while they were repairing the boat they should not lose the chance of being seen by any passing vessel. The flagstaff was therefore again erected near where it had before stood, and the drift wood collected to dry in the sun in order that it might serve to form a beacon-fire at night. The first thing to be done was to caulk the boat. Mr Scoones and the carpenter’s mate undertook to do this and to nail such planks as had been started, which was no easy matter, as not a stone could be found, and they had only the handles of their knives. But patience and perseverance had overcome greater difficulties than theirs. The carpenter’s mate looked grave as he surveyed the boat.“If it keeps calm she will swim, sir; but if it comes on to blow, heavily loaded as she will be, my idea is that she will swamp to a certainty. Had we the tools, I should have raised her a streak all round and put a bit of a deck on her fore and aft.”“No use to talk about that,” said Mr Scoones, with a sigh; “it is beyond our power.”While they were thus employed Nat’s voice was heard in the distance, and he was seen running from the direction of the old camp. He was holding aloft what they soon discovered to be a saw.“Hurrah! I have found this and many things more,” he exclaimed, as he drew near.On coming up to the party, he explained he had found that the sea had barely washed over the higher part of the bank, on which the tent had stood.This latter, though knocked over, still remained, with a quantity of cordage and other heavy articles, besides some provisions. On hearing this, Mr Scoones took possession of the tools and nails, with which he and the carpenter’s mate worked away at the boat, while he despatched the rest of the party to bring up the other articles. It was heavy work toiling over the sand, but Owen, setting the example, the rest cheerfully obeyed. It took several days to fit the boat for sea. The tools were blunt, and no means existed to sharpen them.Every day at sunrise the flag was hoisted, and every night the beacon-fire lighted, but the signals were observed by no passing vessel. While Mr Scoones and the carpenter’s mate were working at the boat, the rest of the party were engaged in arranging the provisions, repairing two of the water casks which leaked, in picking oakum, or in other work. No one could afford to be idle.“It would be a fine thing now if we could only pick up a keg of spirits,” said Bill Pratt to Mike, as they were working at the water casks.“Do you think so, mate?” observed Mike. “Shure wasn’t it the spirits cost all the rest of the poor fellows their lives, and well-nigh your own? I am thinking that it would be a good thing if there was never another dhrop of the crathur brewed in the world. How was it that the ship came to be cast away, I should like to know? Look at the mate there; he is steady enough now, but let him get liquor to his lips we don’t know what mad freak he would play. No, no; if we find a keg, the best thing we can do will be to knock in the head at once, before any one is tempted to touch it.”Fortunately no keg of spirits was found, for the force of the gale had dashed everything which came out of the wreck to pieces, and had not the shipwrecked party secured a sufficient supply of provisions at first, they would have run great chance of starving. The hull of the boat was now complete. The flagstaff had to be taken down to be cut up into masts, spars, and oars. Mr Scoones, partly with the canvas which had served for a tent, and partly with cotton cloth, had fitted a suit of sails.At length all was ready; the boat was launched, and appeared to be tolerably seaworthy. Her cargo was piled up on the beach. The men had to wade up to their middles to carry it on board. When everything was in her she was somewhat heavily laden, but with the prospect of a long voyage before them they were unwilling to leave either water or provisions behind.All climbed on board. The sand-bag which served as her anchor was hauled up, the oars got out, and they pulled away to the northward, clear of the reefs. The sails were then hoisted. They consisted of three lugs and a foresail, for, from the light materials of which they were formed, it was considered more prudent to have several small sails than two large ones. The wind blew from the northward, and was thus abeam, and her course was about E.N.E.The wind soon increased, and it became necessary to close reef all the sails, while the quick motion of the boat, as she danced lightly over the seas, made every one, with the exception of Mr Scoones and Owen, very ill. The mate abused them for giving way.“Shure it’s not for pleasure, sir,” exclaimed Mike. “As soon as the sea chooses to be quiet, we will be quiet too.”His remark produced a laugh, even among those who appeared the worst. In a short time they got better. The night as it approached threatened to be stormy, and some of the party expressed a wish that they were safe back again on the sand-bank.“Suppose such another gale as we had before were to drive the water over it, where should we be?” asked Mr Scoones. “Depend upon it we are better off in a tight boat, with twice as much sea as we have running here.”Owen thought the mate was right. He did his best to keep up the spirits of his companions. The wind increasing, the sea got up more and more. It was necessary to keep the boat’s head close to the wind, sometimes indeed to put the helm hard down so that she might ride over the seas, which otherwise would have broken on board and swamped her. As it was, in spite of the additional streak, the water constantly fell on board, and two hands were kept continually baling it out. The least carelessness in steering would inevitably have caused the destruction of the boat. It seemed surprising, small as she was, that she could live. All night long the wind continued to blow as hard as ever, and no progress was made. There was a fear, indeed, that they might drive back on the sand-bank. When morning broke Owen looked out anxiously to the southward, expecting to see it under their lee. He was, however, thankful to find, as the light increased, that they were out of sight of the dreaded bank.For two days the same weather continued. Some of the people began to lose heart.Owen did his best to cheer them up. “Depend upon it we shall have clear skies and a smooth sea before long; we shall then run along famously, and make up for lost time,” he observed.Mr Scoones kept up his character as a good seaman. For hours together he sat at the helm, and only gave it up to Bill Pratt, who was the next best hand to him. At last, as Owen had predicted, the wind fell, and the sea went down. Once more the boat was put on her course to the eastward. During the day they steered by the sun, and at night by the stars, which shone forth with great brilliancy. Although Owen had often gazed before at the Southern Cross and the other beautiful constellations of that hemisphere, he now watched them with greater interest than ever. With the fine weather the spirits of the party rose. Owen proposed that each man should recount his adventures, tell a story, or sing a song. His proposal was adopted; it served to beguile the time, and prevented the men from thinking of the dangers which might be in store for them. Mr Scoones did not interfere. He sat silent and gloomy, as usual. He might possibly have reflected that it was through his own obstinacy that the ship had been cast away, and the lives of so many of her crew sacrificed. Fishing lines were also constantly kept out, and several fish were caught. The only means of cooking them was on a fire of chips on the lid of the fish-kettle. They proved a valuable addition to their fare, and assisted, with the dried fruit which had been saved, in warding off scurvy. The wind was, however, very light, and but slow progress was made. At length it became perfectly calm.Mr Scoones immediately ordered the men to get out the oars. Owen set the example, and Nat and Mike obeyed, but the others grumbled, asserting that the advantage to be gained was so slight that it was not worth while to exert themselves.Mr Scoones became very angry, and standing up with the tiller in his hand, declared that he would knock the first man overboard who refused to obey his orders.“You’d better not try it,” answered the carpenter’s mate, a powerful-looking man, seizing the hammer which lay near him. “Having three or four hundred miles to sail, as I understand, we can do little good in tiring ourselves out by pulling along at the rate of two knots an hour in this blazing sun. Let those boys and the Irishman put in their oars. They will only kill themselves if they keep at it.”Mr Scoones saw by this how slight was his authority over the men, and wisely gave up the attempt. After a time the calm became more difficult to endure than had been the gale. Owen and his two friends had their heads protected by the turbans which they had at first manufactured, but the others had taken no similar precautions. The straw hats they wore, which had been washed ashore, afforded but a slight resistance against the penetrating rays of the sun. Night brought them all some relief.Then all hands, excepting one who remained on the watch, lay down to sleep. When it was Owen’s watch he saw the mate several times get up and look about him as if his slumbers were light and troubled. For upwards of four days the calm continued. Provisions were served out regularly, but Mr Scoones, believing that they would reach Batavia in ten days or so, had not put the people on an allowance of water; the consequence was that they drank away at the water casks without stint, as they had done at the spirit kegs. One of the casks was soon emptied. Without telling Mr Scoones, they began upon a second. Even Owen was not aware how rapidly the water was being exhausted, until Nat told him that he was afraid they were half-way through the second cask. Owen at once informed Mr Scoones, who on this occasion had good cause for his anger.“If you wish to live, you fellows must consent to be put on short allowance. We have not made good more than thirty miles of the distance we have to run, and for what we know, we may chance to meet with contrary winds and more calms, and if so, we shall soon all die of thirst. Being without water is, as you will find, worse than being without food.”These remarks brought the men to reason. The remainder of the kegs, including those which had been washed up upon the island, were therefore brought and kept aft by Mr Scoones, who served out half a cupful at a time twice a day to each man.Owen, as before, tried to animate his companions.“Here comes a breeze,” he exclaimed, as a light blue ripple was seen advancing over the mirror-like surface of the ocean. The sails were trimmed, and the boat once more glided on at the rate of three or four knots an hour. Even should the breeze continue, however it would take them many days to reach Batavia. The wind lasted but a few hours, when they were again becalmed. Thus they lay, making no progress for another two days. Once more a breeze sprung up, but it was directly in their teeth. The boat was hauled on the wind and stood to the northward.“We may have a long beat of it, but it cannot be helped,” said Mr Scoones to Owen.It was trying work; now they tacked to the south-east, now to the north-east. The imperfect observations they were able to take showed them, however, that they had gained some ground Owen cheered the men by reminding them that they were in the course of homeward and outward bound vessels, and that they might hope to fall in with one or the other.Still day by day went by, and they were yet a long way from land. Once more the weather changed, and the wind shifted to the northward.Night came on; Mr Scoones, unwilling to lose advantage of the breeze, continued to carry all sail, and it was evidently as much as the boat could bear. During the darkness a squall struck her. Before the sheets could be let go, the whole of the lighter canvas was blown away. Had not this happened, the boat would have been upset. She had now but her fore lug and foresail, so that she could no longer keep close to the wind without an after oar kept constantly going. The night, however, passed away without any farther accident. It was not until noon, when the weather moderated, that all hands turned to and tried to repair the tattered sails. This operation was almost beyond their power. They managed, however, to patch up a mizen, which enabled the boat once more to stand on her proper course.Several days passed by; no land appeared in sight. Their provisions were almost exhausted. They had been on short allowance for some time; but a few pints of water remained in their last cask. Again the boat lay becalmed. The three men who had escaped with the mate from the camp—their strength previously weakened by drinking—had given in and lay at the bottom of the boat, or leaned against the side, unable to exert themselves.Mr Scoones, strong and hardy as he had been, was utterly exhausted. Owen, Nat, and Mike, though feeling weak, were by far the most active of the crew.Another day passed by; the carpenter’s mate was the first to die, the other two quickly followed. Owen had endeavoured to restore them by moistening their parched lips with water; but it was of no avail. He felt himself imbued with a strength which surprised him. The dead bodies were lifted over board. No funeral ceremony was possible.Owen then went aft to attend to the first mate, who lay in the stern sheets unable to move. Owen brought him some water; he drank it eagerly, and opened his eyes.“Is there much more?” he asked.“Very little, sir; but we will take only what will keep us alive, you can have the rest.”Owen, faithful to his promise, continued to give the apparently dying man a few thimblefuls at a time.“Were a breeze to spring up we might yet be saved,” said the mate. “Do you see any signs of one?”“Not as yet, sir,” answered Owen, after he had looked round the horizon; “but cheer up, sir, God may still think fit to preserve us, although we do not see how it is to be. I’ll get you a little more water.”All day long Owen continued, as at first, to attend on the mate. Mike and Nat sat still, their spirits were too low to talk; but they were perfectly satisfied that the mate should have the water, though their own share was thus much diminished. They all ate sparingly of the provisions which remained. Fortunately among them was some of the dried fruit, which assisted to assuage their thirst. The mate did not appear to grow worse, and Owen hoped that during the cool hours of the night he might revive. The sun went down in a cloudless sky, and the stars shone out brightly above their heads. Still no breeze came. The first mate occasionally spoke and inquired how the weather looked, but Owen could only give the answer as before. Morning was approaching.“If we do not make the land, Hartley,” said Mr Scoones, “or do not get picked up to-day, I shall not see another sun set.”“I hope you will hold out, sir,” answered Owen; “we have still a little water, and our provisions are not quite exhausted. I trust you will not get worse.”He said this, though scarcely a couple of pints of water remained, while the provisions he spoke of consisted of a small piece of dry salt beef and half a dozen figs. Owen, feeling that he could hold out some time longer, was anxious to give the mate as large a share as possible, for he evidently required it more than any one.Owen spoke to Nat and Mike, and they agreed that he should have a double allowance. The night air had revived him considerably. Owen gave him a few drops of water, after which he managed to chew some beef and eat a fig. Owen then gave him a further allowance of the precious fluid. He asked for more. “You shall have it, sir, but we are running very short,” said Owen.“How many gallons have you?” asked the mate.“Gallons, sir! we have not more than a pint.”“Good heavens! a pint only, and that among four people, with such a sun as we shall have scorching down upon our heads before long,” exclaimed the mate. “I feel my inside burning already.”“I would give you another draught, but you will want it more by-and-by than you do now, sir,” said Owen. “Perhaps when the sun rises we may get a breeze and make the run you expect.”Although the mate kept crying out for more water, Owen was firm. The sun rose on a sky undimmed by a single cloud. The sea shone like a sheet of burnished gold, not a ripple played over it, excepting when, here and there, a fish rose to the surface, or leapt out of the water, sending far around a circle of tiny wavelets. Occasionally, too, a sea-fowl winged its flight through the blue ether, and ever and anon would plunge down to seize its prey from the ocean. The appearance of birds showed that land could not be far off, but not the faintest outline could as yet be discovered. The mate, dragging himself up to the side of the boat, gazed round with aching eyes, then sank down with a groan to his former position. Owen felt himself growing weaker and weaker. Poor Nat and Mike could scarcely raise their voices above a whisper.“Water! water!” groaned the mate; “give me some if you would save my life.”The other two pointed to their lips, and gazed eagerly at the casks. Owen dragged himself towards them. He could have drunk the whole of the water himself, and yet not have been satisfied. He poured out a small quantity and took it to the mate.“Sip it slowly, sir,” he said, “we have very little more remaining.”To his dismay, as he again went to pour some in the cup, he found there was scarcely sufficient left to fill it. He took what he believed to be his own share, and then carried the remainder to Nat and Mike. He put it to the lips of the first, who seized it with both his hands, and would have drained it to the bottom.“Let go,” cried Owen, “this is Mike’s share as well as yours.” With some difficulty he rescued it, and handed the cup to the Irishman, who swallowed it eagerly. Owen had not the heart to tell them there was no more. Before long they again cried out for water. Owen made no reply.“Water! water!” groaned the mate. Owen shook his head. He had scarcely strength enough to crawl back and show that it was exhausted. The mate at last understood him.“Is there none in any of the other casks?” he asked.Owen knew that they had been emptied to the last drop. He crawled to where they were stowed, and tried one after the other. They were perfectly dry. Without water to moisten their lips, no one would be able to masticate the last remnants of food.“I knew it would be so,” groaned the mate. “Any sign of a breeze?”“None that I can perceive, sir,” answered Owen. He dragged himself up by the mast so as to obtain a wider range of observation. Unable to stand long he soon sat down again. After a lapse of some time the mate again asked in a faint voice, “Any sign of a breeze?”Owen once more looked out. He was about to sink down on the thwart, when his eye fell on a white spot in the horizon. He gazed at it without speaking; it might be only a sea-bird’s wing. Again and again he looked with straining eyes.“A sail! a sail!” he exclaimed. His voice sounded hollow and strange; he fancied some one else was speaking.“Are you mocking us?” asked the mate.“No, sir, I am certain it is a sail,” answered Owen.His voice aroused Nat and Mike, who turned round and looked over the side. The mate, who just before appeared to have entirely lost his strength, dragged himself up and took Owen’s place at the mast.With what sounded like an hysterical laugh, “Yes,” he cried out, “a sail! no doubt about it; she is bringing up a breeze, and standing this way. We are saved! we are saved!”He kept his post, grasping the mast tightly, and watching the approaching sail. Owen returned to his seat, from whence he could well observe the stranger. A long time must pass before she could be up to them, and before then she might alter her course. They wore but a speck on the water, and might be passed unperceived. Still the mate kept his post, waving his hand and trying to shout out, as if at that distance he could be either seen or heard. By his behaviour Owen thought he must have lost his senses. Nat and Mike every now and then uttered strange exclamations, showing that they were much in the same condition. The stranger’s royals had first been seen, then her topgallant sails, and now the heads of her topsails appeared above the horizon. She was evidently a large ship, and, as her courses came in sight, the mate pronounced that she was a man-of-war, a frigate, or perhaps a line-of-battle ship. She stood steadily on, as if steering for the boat, which, however, could scarcely yet have been discovered. As the expectation of being saved grew stronger, Owen felt his energies—which he had hitherto by great effort maintained, when the lives of his companions seemed to depend on his retaining his senses—giving way.He saw the hull of the ship rise above the water, he could count her guns, he knew that she was a frigate; he was certain that the boat was discovered, and then he lost all consciousness.

Dawn at last appeared, and as the light increased, Owen and his companions on looking out discovered, to their joy, that the water had gone down considerably, and that other parts of the sand-bank were appearing above the hissing foam, although the water at intervals still swept around them. The wind, also, had abated. Their first care was to look after the boat. She lay broadside to the beach, proving that she had been in no small danger of being carried off, but happily she had escaped any serious damage. Small as she was, she would carry their now diminished company.

They all agreed that it was important that they should get away with as little delay as possible from the sand-bank, and either reach some higher island or make their way to Batavia. There was a possibility also of their being picked up by some passing vessel. Owen, who knew that the distance to the Straits of Sunda could not be much less than 800 miles, and perhaps very much more, earnestly hoped that they might be fortunate enough to meet with a vessel.

Although the mate talked of going to Batavia he seemed far less confident in his manner than usual; indeed he appeared greatly out of spirits.

“Do you think, sir, that we could make Batavia?” asked Owen, finding himself alone with the mate.

“Yes, and we might go twice as far in our boat; but you have got a head on your shoulders, as you have lately shown, and should recollect that we cannot make a voyage of five or six days without water, and we may be twice as long as that. Why, those small casks you have will be exhausted before the boat can be got ready.”

The mate’s spirits rose considerably when Owen in reply told him that there were two other casks concealed in the sand. “Oh, then we need not stint ourselves as we have been doing,” he answered. “We shall probably get another shower before long, only I wish that we had some good liquor to mix with it.”

“But we may not get a shower, and the small supply we possess can only, with the greatest economy, last us two or three weeks,” remarked Owen.

The mate did not reply, but shortly afterwards, going to one of the casks, took a large draught of water. His thirst seemed insatiable—again and again he applied his mouth to the cask—had it contained spirits he would have done the same, and would speedily have become as tipsy as before. Owen was thankful that such was not the case, but regretted having told the mate, who had thus exhibited his utter selfishness, of the two casks concealed in the sand. He resolved at length to appeal to the men, and to advise them to insist that an equal and limited allowance of water should be served out to each person, a measure absolutely necessary for the preservation of their lives. Bill Pratt, to whom he first spoke, agreed to this, as did the rest, and Bill undertook to be the spokesman. The mate was overawed, and having drunk as much water as he just then required, sulkily agreed to the proposal.

Happily, in a short time, another large cloud was seen coming up with the wind, the last, apparently, of the vast mass which had lately overhung the sand-bank; the casks were got ready, the cloth stretched out. Anxiously the shipwrecked seamen gazed at the approaching cloud. The rain was seen falling into the sea. Would it cease before it reached them? On it slowly came. They could hear the precious rain as it reached the ocean. In another instant down it came upon them. The casks were filled. With proper economy they would have enough water to last them for many a day. How to repair the boat was the next question. The tools and nails which Owen and Nat had saved had been left at the camp, and, too probably, had been washed away. Unless they could find some more tools in one of the chests thrown up they could scarcely hope to fit the boat for sea. There were spars and planks enough, but they could not shape them with their knives alone for the purpose. They searched in vain, however, and found only a few nails sticking in some of the planks, but not a tool of any description. Nat had set out to look along the beach, while the rest of the party were consulting about the boat. He made his way in the direction of the camp.

As the tide had now fallen to its usual level, the intermediate ground was perfectly dry. He had been absent for some time. The mate directed the rest of the party to collect all the spars, planks, and cordage they could find.

“We might live on here for months, lads,” said Mr Scoones, “but should another gale spring up somewhat rougher than the last, we may all be swept away; so depend upon it, the sooner we get off this sand-bank the better. Where there’s a will there’s a way; and as we have no other tools we must do the best we can with our knives. It will be a long business, and we must take care not to break them. The first thing we have to do is to stop the leaks in the boat; we must then form some oars from the spars we have got and the staves of the casks. They won’t be very shapely, but they will serve to move the boat along, and the ends of the ropes will afford us oakum. We have cotton enough to make a suit of sails, although they might not be fit to stand a strong wind. We have also spars for masts and yards.”

The mate having got over his drunken fit, was now completely himself again, and, although he was occasionally surly and overhearing, Owen was thankful that he had been saved. He was certainly better able to carry out the proposed plans than any one else.

Owen suggested that while they were repairing the boat they should not lose the chance of being seen by any passing vessel. The flagstaff was therefore again erected near where it had before stood, and the drift wood collected to dry in the sun in order that it might serve to form a beacon-fire at night. The first thing to be done was to caulk the boat. Mr Scoones and the carpenter’s mate undertook to do this and to nail such planks as had been started, which was no easy matter, as not a stone could be found, and they had only the handles of their knives. But patience and perseverance had overcome greater difficulties than theirs. The carpenter’s mate looked grave as he surveyed the boat.

“If it keeps calm she will swim, sir; but if it comes on to blow, heavily loaded as she will be, my idea is that she will swamp to a certainty. Had we the tools, I should have raised her a streak all round and put a bit of a deck on her fore and aft.”

“No use to talk about that,” said Mr Scoones, with a sigh; “it is beyond our power.”

While they were thus employed Nat’s voice was heard in the distance, and he was seen running from the direction of the old camp. He was holding aloft what they soon discovered to be a saw.

“Hurrah! I have found this and many things more,” he exclaimed, as he drew near.

On coming up to the party, he explained he had found that the sea had barely washed over the higher part of the bank, on which the tent had stood.

This latter, though knocked over, still remained, with a quantity of cordage and other heavy articles, besides some provisions. On hearing this, Mr Scoones took possession of the tools and nails, with which he and the carpenter’s mate worked away at the boat, while he despatched the rest of the party to bring up the other articles. It was heavy work toiling over the sand, but Owen, setting the example, the rest cheerfully obeyed. It took several days to fit the boat for sea. The tools were blunt, and no means existed to sharpen them.

Every day at sunrise the flag was hoisted, and every night the beacon-fire lighted, but the signals were observed by no passing vessel. While Mr Scoones and the carpenter’s mate were working at the boat, the rest of the party were engaged in arranging the provisions, repairing two of the water casks which leaked, in picking oakum, or in other work. No one could afford to be idle.

“It would be a fine thing now if we could only pick up a keg of spirits,” said Bill Pratt to Mike, as they were working at the water casks.

“Do you think so, mate?” observed Mike. “Shure wasn’t it the spirits cost all the rest of the poor fellows their lives, and well-nigh your own? I am thinking that it would be a good thing if there was never another dhrop of the crathur brewed in the world. How was it that the ship came to be cast away, I should like to know? Look at the mate there; he is steady enough now, but let him get liquor to his lips we don’t know what mad freak he would play. No, no; if we find a keg, the best thing we can do will be to knock in the head at once, before any one is tempted to touch it.”

Fortunately no keg of spirits was found, for the force of the gale had dashed everything which came out of the wreck to pieces, and had not the shipwrecked party secured a sufficient supply of provisions at first, they would have run great chance of starving. The hull of the boat was now complete. The flagstaff had to be taken down to be cut up into masts, spars, and oars. Mr Scoones, partly with the canvas which had served for a tent, and partly with cotton cloth, had fitted a suit of sails.

At length all was ready; the boat was launched, and appeared to be tolerably seaworthy. Her cargo was piled up on the beach. The men had to wade up to their middles to carry it on board. When everything was in her she was somewhat heavily laden, but with the prospect of a long voyage before them they were unwilling to leave either water or provisions behind.

All climbed on board. The sand-bag which served as her anchor was hauled up, the oars got out, and they pulled away to the northward, clear of the reefs. The sails were then hoisted. They consisted of three lugs and a foresail, for, from the light materials of which they were formed, it was considered more prudent to have several small sails than two large ones. The wind blew from the northward, and was thus abeam, and her course was about E.N.E.

The wind soon increased, and it became necessary to close reef all the sails, while the quick motion of the boat, as she danced lightly over the seas, made every one, with the exception of Mr Scoones and Owen, very ill. The mate abused them for giving way.

“Shure it’s not for pleasure, sir,” exclaimed Mike. “As soon as the sea chooses to be quiet, we will be quiet too.”

His remark produced a laugh, even among those who appeared the worst. In a short time they got better. The night as it approached threatened to be stormy, and some of the party expressed a wish that they were safe back again on the sand-bank.

“Suppose such another gale as we had before were to drive the water over it, where should we be?” asked Mr Scoones. “Depend upon it we are better off in a tight boat, with twice as much sea as we have running here.”

Owen thought the mate was right. He did his best to keep up the spirits of his companions. The wind increasing, the sea got up more and more. It was necessary to keep the boat’s head close to the wind, sometimes indeed to put the helm hard down so that she might ride over the seas, which otherwise would have broken on board and swamped her. As it was, in spite of the additional streak, the water constantly fell on board, and two hands were kept continually baling it out. The least carelessness in steering would inevitably have caused the destruction of the boat. It seemed surprising, small as she was, that she could live. All night long the wind continued to blow as hard as ever, and no progress was made. There was a fear, indeed, that they might drive back on the sand-bank. When morning broke Owen looked out anxiously to the southward, expecting to see it under their lee. He was, however, thankful to find, as the light increased, that they were out of sight of the dreaded bank.

For two days the same weather continued. Some of the people began to lose heart.

Owen did his best to cheer them up. “Depend upon it we shall have clear skies and a smooth sea before long; we shall then run along famously, and make up for lost time,” he observed.

Mr Scoones kept up his character as a good seaman. For hours together he sat at the helm, and only gave it up to Bill Pratt, who was the next best hand to him. At last, as Owen had predicted, the wind fell, and the sea went down. Once more the boat was put on her course to the eastward. During the day they steered by the sun, and at night by the stars, which shone forth with great brilliancy. Although Owen had often gazed before at the Southern Cross and the other beautiful constellations of that hemisphere, he now watched them with greater interest than ever. With the fine weather the spirits of the party rose. Owen proposed that each man should recount his adventures, tell a story, or sing a song. His proposal was adopted; it served to beguile the time, and prevented the men from thinking of the dangers which might be in store for them. Mr Scoones did not interfere. He sat silent and gloomy, as usual. He might possibly have reflected that it was through his own obstinacy that the ship had been cast away, and the lives of so many of her crew sacrificed. Fishing lines were also constantly kept out, and several fish were caught. The only means of cooking them was on a fire of chips on the lid of the fish-kettle. They proved a valuable addition to their fare, and assisted, with the dried fruit which had been saved, in warding off scurvy. The wind was, however, very light, and but slow progress was made. At length it became perfectly calm.

Mr Scoones immediately ordered the men to get out the oars. Owen set the example, and Nat and Mike obeyed, but the others grumbled, asserting that the advantage to be gained was so slight that it was not worth while to exert themselves.

Mr Scoones became very angry, and standing up with the tiller in his hand, declared that he would knock the first man overboard who refused to obey his orders.

“You’d better not try it,” answered the carpenter’s mate, a powerful-looking man, seizing the hammer which lay near him. “Having three or four hundred miles to sail, as I understand, we can do little good in tiring ourselves out by pulling along at the rate of two knots an hour in this blazing sun. Let those boys and the Irishman put in their oars. They will only kill themselves if they keep at it.”

Mr Scoones saw by this how slight was his authority over the men, and wisely gave up the attempt. After a time the calm became more difficult to endure than had been the gale. Owen and his two friends had their heads protected by the turbans which they had at first manufactured, but the others had taken no similar precautions. The straw hats they wore, which had been washed ashore, afforded but a slight resistance against the penetrating rays of the sun. Night brought them all some relief.

Then all hands, excepting one who remained on the watch, lay down to sleep. When it was Owen’s watch he saw the mate several times get up and look about him as if his slumbers were light and troubled. For upwards of four days the calm continued. Provisions were served out regularly, but Mr Scoones, believing that they would reach Batavia in ten days or so, had not put the people on an allowance of water; the consequence was that they drank away at the water casks without stint, as they had done at the spirit kegs. One of the casks was soon emptied. Without telling Mr Scoones, they began upon a second. Even Owen was not aware how rapidly the water was being exhausted, until Nat told him that he was afraid they were half-way through the second cask. Owen at once informed Mr Scoones, who on this occasion had good cause for his anger.

“If you wish to live, you fellows must consent to be put on short allowance. We have not made good more than thirty miles of the distance we have to run, and for what we know, we may chance to meet with contrary winds and more calms, and if so, we shall soon all die of thirst. Being without water is, as you will find, worse than being without food.”

These remarks brought the men to reason. The remainder of the kegs, including those which had been washed up upon the island, were therefore brought and kept aft by Mr Scoones, who served out half a cupful at a time twice a day to each man.

Owen, as before, tried to animate his companions.

“Here comes a breeze,” he exclaimed, as a light blue ripple was seen advancing over the mirror-like surface of the ocean. The sails were trimmed, and the boat once more glided on at the rate of three or four knots an hour. Even should the breeze continue, however it would take them many days to reach Batavia. The wind lasted but a few hours, when they were again becalmed. Thus they lay, making no progress for another two days. Once more a breeze sprung up, but it was directly in their teeth. The boat was hauled on the wind and stood to the northward.

“We may have a long beat of it, but it cannot be helped,” said Mr Scoones to Owen.

It was trying work; now they tacked to the south-east, now to the north-east. The imperfect observations they were able to take showed them, however, that they had gained some ground Owen cheered the men by reminding them that they were in the course of homeward and outward bound vessels, and that they might hope to fall in with one or the other.

Still day by day went by, and they were yet a long way from land. Once more the weather changed, and the wind shifted to the northward.

Night came on; Mr Scoones, unwilling to lose advantage of the breeze, continued to carry all sail, and it was evidently as much as the boat could bear. During the darkness a squall struck her. Before the sheets could be let go, the whole of the lighter canvas was blown away. Had not this happened, the boat would have been upset. She had now but her fore lug and foresail, so that she could no longer keep close to the wind without an after oar kept constantly going. The night, however, passed away without any farther accident. It was not until noon, when the weather moderated, that all hands turned to and tried to repair the tattered sails. This operation was almost beyond their power. They managed, however, to patch up a mizen, which enabled the boat once more to stand on her proper course.

Several days passed by; no land appeared in sight. Their provisions were almost exhausted. They had been on short allowance for some time; but a few pints of water remained in their last cask. Again the boat lay becalmed. The three men who had escaped with the mate from the camp—their strength previously weakened by drinking—had given in and lay at the bottom of the boat, or leaned against the side, unable to exert themselves.

Mr Scoones, strong and hardy as he had been, was utterly exhausted. Owen, Nat, and Mike, though feeling weak, were by far the most active of the crew.

Another day passed by; the carpenter’s mate was the first to die, the other two quickly followed. Owen had endeavoured to restore them by moistening their parched lips with water; but it was of no avail. He felt himself imbued with a strength which surprised him. The dead bodies were lifted over board. No funeral ceremony was possible.

Owen then went aft to attend to the first mate, who lay in the stern sheets unable to move. Owen brought him some water; he drank it eagerly, and opened his eyes.

“Is there much more?” he asked.

“Very little, sir; but we will take only what will keep us alive, you can have the rest.”

Owen, faithful to his promise, continued to give the apparently dying man a few thimblefuls at a time.

“Were a breeze to spring up we might yet be saved,” said the mate. “Do you see any signs of one?”

“Not as yet, sir,” answered Owen, after he had looked round the horizon; “but cheer up, sir, God may still think fit to preserve us, although we do not see how it is to be. I’ll get you a little more water.”

All day long Owen continued, as at first, to attend on the mate. Mike and Nat sat still, their spirits were too low to talk; but they were perfectly satisfied that the mate should have the water, though their own share was thus much diminished. They all ate sparingly of the provisions which remained. Fortunately among them was some of the dried fruit, which assisted to assuage their thirst. The mate did not appear to grow worse, and Owen hoped that during the cool hours of the night he might revive. The sun went down in a cloudless sky, and the stars shone out brightly above their heads. Still no breeze came. The first mate occasionally spoke and inquired how the weather looked, but Owen could only give the answer as before. Morning was approaching.

“If we do not make the land, Hartley,” said Mr Scoones, “or do not get picked up to-day, I shall not see another sun set.”

“I hope you will hold out, sir,” answered Owen; “we have still a little water, and our provisions are not quite exhausted. I trust you will not get worse.”

He said this, though scarcely a couple of pints of water remained, while the provisions he spoke of consisted of a small piece of dry salt beef and half a dozen figs. Owen, feeling that he could hold out some time longer, was anxious to give the mate as large a share as possible, for he evidently required it more than any one.

Owen spoke to Nat and Mike, and they agreed that he should have a double allowance. The night air had revived him considerably. Owen gave him a few drops of water, after which he managed to chew some beef and eat a fig. Owen then gave him a further allowance of the precious fluid. He asked for more. “You shall have it, sir, but we are running very short,” said Owen.

“How many gallons have you?” asked the mate.

“Gallons, sir! we have not more than a pint.”

“Good heavens! a pint only, and that among four people, with such a sun as we shall have scorching down upon our heads before long,” exclaimed the mate. “I feel my inside burning already.”

“I would give you another draught, but you will want it more by-and-by than you do now, sir,” said Owen. “Perhaps when the sun rises we may get a breeze and make the run you expect.”

Although the mate kept crying out for more water, Owen was firm. The sun rose on a sky undimmed by a single cloud. The sea shone like a sheet of burnished gold, not a ripple played over it, excepting when, here and there, a fish rose to the surface, or leapt out of the water, sending far around a circle of tiny wavelets. Occasionally, too, a sea-fowl winged its flight through the blue ether, and ever and anon would plunge down to seize its prey from the ocean. The appearance of birds showed that land could not be far off, but not the faintest outline could as yet be discovered. The mate, dragging himself up to the side of the boat, gazed round with aching eyes, then sank down with a groan to his former position. Owen felt himself growing weaker and weaker. Poor Nat and Mike could scarcely raise their voices above a whisper.

“Water! water!” groaned the mate; “give me some if you would save my life.”

The other two pointed to their lips, and gazed eagerly at the casks. Owen dragged himself towards them. He could have drunk the whole of the water himself, and yet not have been satisfied. He poured out a small quantity and took it to the mate.

“Sip it slowly, sir,” he said, “we have very little more remaining.”

To his dismay, as he again went to pour some in the cup, he found there was scarcely sufficient left to fill it. He took what he believed to be his own share, and then carried the remainder to Nat and Mike. He put it to the lips of the first, who seized it with both his hands, and would have drained it to the bottom.

“Let go,” cried Owen, “this is Mike’s share as well as yours.” With some difficulty he rescued it, and handed the cup to the Irishman, who swallowed it eagerly. Owen had not the heart to tell them there was no more. Before long they again cried out for water. Owen made no reply.

“Water! water!” groaned the mate. Owen shook his head. He had scarcely strength enough to crawl back and show that it was exhausted. The mate at last understood him.

“Is there none in any of the other casks?” he asked.

Owen knew that they had been emptied to the last drop. He crawled to where they were stowed, and tried one after the other. They were perfectly dry. Without water to moisten their lips, no one would be able to masticate the last remnants of food.

“I knew it would be so,” groaned the mate. “Any sign of a breeze?”

“None that I can perceive, sir,” answered Owen. He dragged himself up by the mast so as to obtain a wider range of observation. Unable to stand long he soon sat down again. After a lapse of some time the mate again asked in a faint voice, “Any sign of a breeze?”

Owen once more looked out. He was about to sink down on the thwart, when his eye fell on a white spot in the horizon. He gazed at it without speaking; it might be only a sea-bird’s wing. Again and again he looked with straining eyes.

“A sail! a sail!” he exclaimed. His voice sounded hollow and strange; he fancied some one else was speaking.

“Are you mocking us?” asked the mate.

“No, sir, I am certain it is a sail,” answered Owen.

His voice aroused Nat and Mike, who turned round and looked over the side. The mate, who just before appeared to have entirely lost his strength, dragged himself up and took Owen’s place at the mast.

With what sounded like an hysterical laugh, “Yes,” he cried out, “a sail! no doubt about it; she is bringing up a breeze, and standing this way. We are saved! we are saved!”

He kept his post, grasping the mast tightly, and watching the approaching sail. Owen returned to his seat, from whence he could well observe the stranger. A long time must pass before she could be up to them, and before then she might alter her course. They wore but a speck on the water, and might be passed unperceived. Still the mate kept his post, waving his hand and trying to shout out, as if at that distance he could be either seen or heard. By his behaviour Owen thought he must have lost his senses. Nat and Mike every now and then uttered strange exclamations, showing that they were much in the same condition. The stranger’s royals had first been seen, then her topgallant sails, and now the heads of her topsails appeared above the horizon. She was evidently a large ship, and, as her courses came in sight, the mate pronounced that she was a man-of-war, a frigate, or perhaps a line-of-battle ship. She stood steadily on, as if steering for the boat, which, however, could scarcely yet have been discovered. As the expectation of being saved grew stronger, Owen felt his energies—which he had hitherto by great effort maintained, when the lives of his companions seemed to depend on his retaining his senses—giving way.

He saw the hull of the ship rise above the water, he could count her guns, he knew that she was a frigate; he was certain that the boat was discovered, and then he lost all consciousness.

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