Chapter Four.

Chapter Four.Meeting on the raft—an atrocious deed—A desperate fight—Swimming for life—A terrible doom.The people on the raft, overwhelmed with horror at the fearful catastrophe which had occurred, were for a time unable to exert themselves, and had we not been astern of the ship a large portion of our party would probably have perished; but as it was, no one was hurt. The boats, instead of returning to our assistance, continued to pull away to the southward; they did not even stop to take on board Ben and his companion, who, by the light of the burning ship, could be seen at some distance.As soon as those on the raft began somewhat to recover from their consternation, they rose to their feet, uttering the most fearful imprecations on the heads of those who, it was very evident, were so cruelly deserting them. The brave boatswain was the only one among the Spaniards who retained his presence of mind. He and I, with Boxall and Halliday, managed to hoist a sail; when a light breeze enabled us to get sufficiently clear of the burning wreck to avoid the masts and spars which came falling down, hissing, into the water. Several of the people shouted out, urging us to sail in chase of the boats; but even had we attempted it with a strong breeze in our favour, they would of course soon have got far ahead of us. As it was, the wind again fell, and we lay on the calm ocean unable to impel our raft either towards the shore or in any other direction, while we gazed with sad eyes at the burning ship.I looked round for Antonio and young Pedro, but could discover neither of them on the raft. The friendly disposition the latter had exhibited towards us made me hope that he had escaped in one of the boats. Boxall said that he had seen Antonio not long before he himself had got on the raft, and that he was nearly certain he had been left on the burning wreck. Notwithstanding the bad opinion Ben had formed of him, we agreed that we should have been glad had he been with us, as he was certainly one of the most intelligent and active seamen on board. Boxall, Halliday, and I sat near the mast with the boatswain, who tried in vain to arouse his companions to exertion,—urging them to secure the raft more firmly, and to endeavour to pick up anything which might be floating by. Those who had at first obeyed him willingly, now only grumbled; and from words I heard spoken, I was afraid that, should he attempt to enforce his orders, a mutiny would break out. On mentioning my fears to Boxall,—“We must try and defend him then,” he answered. “I trust that some will remain faithful, and rally round us.”The night continued calm. This was the time when, if active, we might possibly have obtained some provisions, and might certainly have improved the raft. We three did what we could, but the people would not move out of our way, and no one would lend a hand. We succeeded, however, in picking up several articles: a boat-hook, some oars, and two casks—but whether they contained water or spirits we could not be certain. Boxall said that as they floated light he believed they were spirit-casks, and suggested that it might be wiser to let them go, in case the people should get drunk with their contents; still, as there was a doubt on the subject, and we were unable at once to examine them, we secured them to the raft.The calmness of the sea alone saved many of the people sleeping near the edge from slipping overboard, or getting their limbs jammed between the openings in the spars. It was easy, however, to foretell what would happen should a strong wind and heavy sea get up: even should the raft hold together, many of those on it must be washed away; while if all hands had exerted themselves, it might have been greatly strengthened, and made secure against the dangers it would in all probability have to encounter.Weary with our exertions, we at length agreed to go back to the mast and rest till daylight; but on reaching the spot where we had before taken our post, near the boatswain, we found it occupied, and were compelled to content ourselves with a less secure place at some distance from him. Not trusting those around us, we agreed that one should keep awake and watch over the other two. It fell to my lot to keep the first watch; and so, while Boxall and Halliday stretched themselves lengthways on a plank, I sat by their side.I had not been there long when some men began talking near me (probably unaware that I understood Spanish). One of the men was, I made out, the boatswain’s mate, and the others were ordinary seamen. They were speaking of the boatswain, and abusing him for what they called his tyranny. Each one had some grievance to complain of.“We have him now in our power,” said the boatswain’s mate; “let us revenge ourselves on him.”“But who is to take command of the raft and guide us to the shore?” asked one of the men.“I will do that,” was the answer; “I am as good a seaman as he is. And when we get to land we will build huts and live at our ease, instead of setting off, as he will certainly wish to do, to find some port where we can start for Spain, where most of you will be sent back to the galleys.”A good deal more was said to the same effect; and my immediate impression was that the men he was addressing were emancipated convicts, and capable of any atrocity. I longed to warn the boatswain at once of the plot hatching for his destruction; but I knew that if I moved I should be suspected. I hoped, however, that at all events the wretches would not attempt to carry their nefarious plan out that night, and I resolved to take the first opportunity of telling the boatswain what I had heard. Growing very sleepy, I was compelled at last to awake Halliday and get him to keep watch. I told him to arouse me should the men make any movement, or show that they were about to carry out their treacherous project.I went to sleep with the thought on my mind of the boatswain’s danger; and I suppose this caused me to awake suddenly. Starting up, I found that Halliday had dropped off to sleep by my side. The raft had drifted to some distance from the ship, which was, however, still burning, the glare falling on the figures of my companions in misfortune,—some lying down, others sleeping in sitting postures. I looked around towards the spot where the boatswain’s mate and his associates had been; they were not there. I crept towards the place where I had left the boatswain; but could not distinguish him. Happening to look to the further end of the raft, I saw a hand lifted up holding a dagger, which gleamed in the light of the burning ship. I shouted to Boxall and Halliday, who sprang to their feet; while I, followed by them, rushed towards the spot where I had seen the weapon raised.“Stop! stop!” I shouted in Spanish. “Commit no murder.” My voice aroused most of the other sleeping occupants of the raft; but before my friends and I could reach the spot the dagger had descended, and we were met by the glaring eyes of the boatswain’s mate and his convict associates.“You have killed the brave boatswain,” I could not help exclaiming.“You shall share his fate, whatever that is,” growled out the murderer. “Who are you, who dares to interfere with me and my friends?”I made no answer. The man held the still reeking dagger in his hand, and I could not help fearing that, should I get within his reach, he would plunge it into me.The people on the raft were now shouting and talking together—some arranging themselves on our side, while others appeared inclined to take part with the boatswain’s mate and his vile associates.“Where is the boatswain? where is the boatswain? Pedro Alvez!” cried out some of the petty officers. No answer came. All the officers had their swords, and Halliday and I had got hold of two of the axes which had been taken to form the raft. Boxall told me to urge the carpenter, who seemed to be the chief in rank, to cut down the mutineers at once, and eitherheave them overboard or lash them to the raft, as he was certain they would otherwise take an early opportunity of attacking us when unprepared, and would put us all to death. He hesitated, however, observing that most of them had their knives, and that it would be no easy matter to overcome them.Again voices shouted, “Where is Pedro Alvez? Let him show himself.”“He went overboard and was drowned; and many more will follow him, if we are interfered with,” answered some one from the end of the raft occupied by the mutineers.This answer evidently alarmed the carpenter, who was a very different sort of man from the brave boatswain.“We will remain quiet till we are attacked, and then, of course, we will defend ourselves,” he observed in a low voice.“Our only chance will be to keep together and be constantly on the watch,” observed Boxall. “I wish he would let me have his sword; I suspect that I should make a better use of it than he will.”The carpenter declined to give up his own weapon, but promised to try and get one—as he was sure that the English officer would make good use of it.Boxall had hitherto been able to arm himself only with a heavy piece of wood, but which his strong arm was likely to use with good effect. In a short time, however, the gunner brought him a sword.“Tell your brother officer that I am sure he will fight well with it, and do his best to maintain order.”“Thank him,” answered Boxall. “He may trust me.”Something like order was at length restored; and the mutineers held their post on the after-part of the raft, while we kept ours round the mast. Thus the remainder of the night passed away.The sun rose at last hot and red over the calm ocean; the heat became intense, and every one was crying out for food and water. Halliday whispered to me that he had taken my advice, and had filled his pockets with biscuits and sausages—which he invited Boxall and me to partake of. We agreed that they would be nothing among so many; still we did not like to eat them in the presence of others.“I ate as much as I wanted during the night,” said Halliday; “and I think if you were to sit down behind me, you might be able to get some food into your mouth without being observed. I should like to give the carpenter some, though.”I undertook to convey a small portion to him. He was very grateful for it, and did not even ask if we had any more. I then told him of the casks. He called several men whom he could trust; who went to the side and, with our assistance, got the casks on the raft. The larger one contained spirits, the other water. On discovering this, a number of the people made a rush towards them, afraid of losing their share,—and we were compelled to keep them at bay with our weapons.“The water and spirits shall be served out so that each shall have a due share,” cried the carpenter. Some small cups were found which served as measures; and the people, awed by the bold front we exhibited, waited patiently till each person had received his proper portion. Very nearly half the cask of water was thus exhausted; and we should have acted more wisely had we waited till the people’s thirst had become greater. Some of them had apparently a few biscuits and other eatable things in their pockets; but besides this, a cask of pork, which had been thrown overboard, and hauled up on the raft before it left the ship, was the only food we possessed. Our only hope of escaping starvation was by speedily reaching the shore.“How soon shall we get there?” asked Halliday of Boxall.“Never—unless a breeze springs up, and these fellows act like rational beings instead of madmen,” he answered, in a more gloomy tone than I had ever yet heard him use. “We must not conceal from ourselves the fearful position in which we are placed. These ruffians will probably try to destroy the gunner and the other officers as they did the boatswain; and watchful as we may be, we shall scarcely be able to guard ourselves against them.”“I wish we had Ben with us,” said Halliday. “A stout, brave fellow such as he is would have been of great help, and with the assistance of the better disposed we might have kept the villains at bay. I wonder what can have become of him!”“He and his companion have probably paddled towards the shore,” answered Boxall. “Self-preservation is the first thing a man thinks of; and though he might not, under other circumstances, have deserted us, he probably thought himself much better off on his light raft than he would be on this large one,—and was afraid, if he came near us, that others would attempt to gain a footing on it, and thus overload it.”“No, no; I do not think that Ben would willingly have deserted us,” I observed. “I am very certain that he would have done his best to help us. He probably lost sight of our raft during the night, and could not find it again; or one of the boats might have returned, and taken him and his companion on board.”“Little chance of that,” answered Boxall. “There is no excuse for their cowardly desertion of us, and they are not likely to have come back for the sake of rescuing any one.”This style of conversation, more of which I need not repeat, served to pass away the time. While the calm continued, our condition did not change for the better, as we could not move, and no sail could approach to our assistance. The Spaniards around us were talking in even a more gloomy strain,—uttering curses, not loud but deep, on the heads of those who had basely deserted them; while the mutineers sat together at the end of the raft muttering to each other, and, as we suspected, hatching mischief.The day wore on, and the sun struck down on our unprotected heads with intense force; while the bright glare on the water affected our eyes, and compelled us to shield them with our hands,—for the sail, though hoisted, afforded us only a partial shade. The mutineers now began to cry out that they wanted more food and water.“It is not time yet to serve it out,” answered the carpenter, who had assumed the command. “If we use it up now, we shall have none for to-morrow.”“Better eat and drink while we are hungry and thirsty, and let to-morrow take care of itself,” exclaimed one of the mutineers.The carpenter took no notice of the remark, and the mutineers remained quiet for some minutes, apparently not having made up their minds how to act.“Depend upon it, these fellows will attack us before long,” observed Boxall; “we must be prepared. Tell the carpenter what I say.” The latter agreed with Boxall, and spoke to the few around him whom he could trust.Boxall now suggested that we should place the three casks and some loose planks so as to form a barricade in front of us, by which means we might better resist an attack. We were engaged doing this, when the leader of the mutineers cried out,—“What are you about? Let these things remain as they are. We want food and water: if it’s not given to us, we will come and take it.”The carpenter, instead of boldly adhering to what he knew was wise, was advised by his more timid companions, and replied that he would give them a little pork and water provided they should remain quiet. I told Boxall; who desired me to warn him that he was acting very imprudently, as they would be sure to ask for more. He persisted, however; and telling the men to come for their rations, he gave each a small measure of water and a piece of pork. On this, several who had remained neutral joined them, and also insisted on receiving their rations. Being supported by the mutineers, the rest of the people very naturally cried out that they must have their share,—fearing that otherwise the mutineers would get the whole of it.Scarcely had the distribution been made, when the mutineers again demanded another supply.“We must be firm, or, finding that they can overawe us, they will insist on doing whatever they please,” said Boxall.The carpenter could not fail to see the wisdom of this advice, and replied that not another drop of water or particle of food would be served out till the next morning. The mutineers received the answer in sullen silence, making at the time no movement; and we began to hope that they would remain quiet. As, however, they soon again felt the gnawings of hunger, they began to talk together in low voices; and, influenced by the instincts of savage beasts, they seemed determined to take by force what they wanted.Their leader, starting up, cried out,—“It’s time to have more food; come, Mr Carpenter, give it to us at once.”“Be quiet, friends; you know that is impossible,” was the mild reply.It failed to influence them, however; and drawing their knives, with which most of them were armed, they sprang towards us. Just at that moment some one at the other end of the raft shouted out,—“A sail! a sail!” The welcome sound arrested even the savage wretches, and, sheathing their knives, they looked round in the direction in which the man was pointing. We cast our eyes towards the spot. There could be no doubt that there was a sail, but I saw at once that it must be a very small vessel, or a boat. I thought it best, however, not to tell the Spaniards this.The mutineers sat down, looking out towards the sail. Though the prospect of relief was sufficient, one might have supposed, to arouse every one, yet so weak and dispirited were many of the Spaniards, that they scarcely moved from their positions, but sat, as before, with their heads resting on their knees. One thing was certain—that the craft, whatever she was, was standing towards us, bringing up a breeze; yet she approached very slowly.“I suspected from the first what she was,” observed Boxall. “Let me have your glass, Charlie, that I may be certain.” I gave him my telescope, which I had kept slung at my back. “As I thought: it is a small raft—probably Ben’s. Honest fellow, I wronged him. He calculated the direction in which we were likely to have drifted, and is coming to our assistance.”In a short time the carpenter also observed to me that it was a raft, with our countryman on it.“We will not tell the mutineers so—let them find it out for themselves; as they may form a plan for taking possession of it, if they think that it would serve them better than this one,” I observed.How anxiously we waited the arrival of the raft! It came on very slowly, for the breeze was light. Our own sail remained hoisted, but as one of the sheets had been let go it remained partly furled round the mast, and did not move the raft. Looking through my glass, I made out Ben and another man. It was evident, then, that they had not succeeded in saving any people from the burning wreck; probably, therefore, all had perished.The raft was soon visible to the dullest eyes of all on board. As she approached, Boxall shouted to Ben,and advised him not to approach too near—telling him of the disorderly state of those with us, and that they would certainly attempt to take from him any water or provisions he might have. Ben on this hauled down his sail, and we saw him apparently endeavouring to make his companion understand the warning he had received.“We will do as you advise, sir,” he shouted in return. “We have got food and water enough on board for three or four people; and knowing that you were likely to be short of both, we came to look for you. My mate here is the brother of the boatswain, and is a very good fellow. As you say, it will be dangerous for us to come alongside; but if Mr Boxall, Mr Halliday, and you will swim off to us, we will run in closer and take you aboard.”“No, no! don’t come any nearer; we can all easily reach you,” answered Boxall. He did not wish to let the Spaniard know of his brother’s death, in case he might be less willing to remain faithful to us.The mutineers, as well as the other people, suspected from this conversation what we were about to do, and also from seeing that the raft did not come nearer. It struck me that, since the poor boatswain was dead, we ought to invite the carpenter to accompany us. Boxall agreed with me; I therefore asked him in a low voice if he could swim, and was willing to try and get on board the small raft.“I cannot swim,” he answered; “and if I could, I would not desert these poor people who are trusting to me, for the mutineers would very soon put them to death. But as you are not bound to remain, I will help you to escape.”Thanking him heartily, I said that we would leap overboard suddenly, in order that no one might attempt to stop us. We were all very sorry to leave the carpenter, for we could not help fearing that when we should be gone the mutineers would attack him, and in all probability treat him as they had done the boatswain. We were still talking to him, when once more the ruffians at the other end of the raft shouted out that they must have water and provisions served out to them immediately.“Ask them to wait patiently till the evening, and say that you will then do as they wish; you will have fewer mouths to feed by that time.”I little thought at the moment how truly I spoke; for scarcely had the carpenter uttered the words when the mutineers rose in a body, and, drawing their knives, made a desperate rush at us. We had only time to spring to our feet and defend ourselves. Though we might have leaped overboard and escaped, we felt that it would be cowardly to desert the carpenter and those who sided with him. As it was, three of the unfortunate people who remained neutral, and were without weapons to defend themselves, being nearest to the savages, were stabbed before we could help them. We fought with the greatest desperation. Boxall cut down one of the fellows, and the carpenter and I wounded two others. Still they came on, as if resolved to overpower us. I observed, also, that Ben was near enough to see what was taking place, and was hoisting his sail, unable to resist his desire to come to our assistance. Should he come near enough to enable any of the people on our raft to leap on to his, I felt sure that our chance of escape would be lost.“Are we bound to sacrifice our lives for these people?” I asked Boxall.“Not when we have lost all hope of assisting them,” he answered. “Ask the carpenter again if he will accompany us.”I was on the point of putting the question, when the ruffians—who seemed resolved on his destruction, believing that then they could have everything their own way—made a desperate rush at him. He cut down one of them, and would have treated the others in the same way, when his foot slipped, and he fell into an opening between the spars. They immediately, before he could regain his feet, threw themselves upon him, and plunged their knives into his body.“It is useless further to contend with the villains. Now is our time!” cried Boxall; and driving back the fellows who were attacking us, we made our way to the side of the raft.“Now, Halliday, leap!” shouted Boxall, while he kept those who were attempting to stop us at bay. Halliday plunged into the water, letting go his axe as he did so, and struck out towards Ben’s raft.“Keep hold of your sword, Charlie,” said Boxall; “I will defend you from these fellows.” I did as he advised me; and putting the sword in my mouth, where I held it fast between my teeth, I leaped into the water, and struck out with all my might towards the small raft. With a sweep of his weapon my brave friend drove back the ruffians, who had now turned their fury on him, and were pressing him hard; then springing overboard, he followed close at my heels. Happily, none of the savages could swim,—or, at all events, they dared not trust themselves in the water, fearing that if they did so Boxall might have attacked them with his sword; though some, in their rage, threw large pieces of wood and other articles, which came very near us; and one of the most furious flung his knife, which happily passed between Boxall’s legs. Shrieks, cries, and shouts for us to come back, were uttered by our enemies, with threats of vengeance; but these, of course, only made us strike out the faster.Ben and his companion, in spite of the warning we had given them, had hoisted their sail, and urging on the raft at the same time with a couple of oars, were approaching us rapidly.“Shorten sail!” cried Boxall; “don’t come nearer; we can easily reach you.”Ben obeyed; and we had the satisfaction of seeing Halliday—who, having no weapon in his mouth, had kept well ahead of us—helped on to the raft. Just then Ben cast a look of dismay towards us. “Strike with all your might, and splash with your feet! Make haste! make haste!” he shouted frantically. At the same time seizing a lump of wood, he flung it into the water on one side of us; while he called to his companion, who had been steering the raft, to put in his oar to help us. The thought of the cause of his excitement flashed into my mind: he had seen close to us a huge shark, which he dreaded every instant would seize our legs. I had, I may say, less fear for myself than for Boxall, who was a little behind me; and I had made but a few more strokes when Ben and the Spaniard seized me by the hands, almost jerking off my arms as they hoisted me on board. The moment my feet were on the raft, my first impulse was to take my sword in my hand, ready to attack the shark should it approach.In a few seconds, greatly to my relief, I saw Boxall hauled up likewise. Scarcely were his feet out of the water when the hideous monster made a dash at the raft, his jaws closing on a projecting part of it, which trembled with the blow. A stroke which I dealt with right good will at its throat,—for a moment exposed to me as it turned on its back to bite,—made it relinquish its hold; and it darted away.Frail as was the structure on which we now found ourselves, we felt in comparative safety; but the impulse which had been given to the raft before the sail was lowered sent it dangerously near the big one. Judging from the attitudes of the people on it, we could make out that several were preparing to swim off to us; with the intention, in all likelihood, of making us prisoners, and taking possession of the provisions and water on the raft. On this Boxall called to Ben to work one of the oars, and Halliday and I assisted the Spaniard at the other. While we did our utmost to increase our distance from those whom we were now compelled to look upon as our enemies, they were all shouting and shrieking; some ordering us to come back, others entreating us not to leave them.As we had to pull against the wind, we made but slow progress; and at length three of the boldest of the mutineers, urged by their companions,—probably because they were good swimmers,—leaped into the sea with their knives in their mouths, and made towards us. The attempt was a mad one, as with our swords and axes we could easily have prevented them from getting on our raft. As they evidently had not seen the monster shark which had so nearly caught us, I shouted to them, telling them of their danger, and advising them to go back; but, believing that it was merely to prevent them from attacking us, they disregarded my warning.On they came, swimming with long powerful strokes, and threatened quickly to overtake us. Unwilling to injure them, we continued to row away as fast as we could—now and then turning our heads to watch them. They had got about half-way when a piercing shriek rent the air, and one of them, throwing up his arms, disappeared beneath the surface: a shark had seized him. His companions, seeing what had happened, turned round and endeavoured to regain the raft. We watched them anxiously, for we had no desire for their destruction, and gladly would we have saved them if we could. They had got some way back, and we hoped that they would succeed in reaching the raft; but when about a dozen fathoms from it, another huge shark rose to the surface, and dragged down a second shrieking victim. The third swam on frantically, crying out to his companions for assistance. They stretched out their arms to him, and we were thankful to see that he at length gained the raft in safety.What the fate of those miserable wretches would be, with no one to command them, to maintain discipline, or to direct them how to gain the land, we dared not think. As for ourselves, we felt in comparative safety on our small but well-constructed raft.Boxall consulted with Ben whether we could take off any of the unfortunate people; but the latter was strongly opposed to the attempt being made.“In the first place, it would be impossible to get off those we might select,” said Ben. “And then,” he added, “this craft carries us very well in smooth water; but should it come on to blow, and a heavy sea get up, it’s more than she would do if we had half-a-dozen more people on board. Then, you see, we have water and provisions for ourselves; but we should be on short commons if we had more people to consume it.”Ben’s arguments prevailed; and though we felt sad at the thought of having to leave so many people to almost certain destruction, yet we could do no more.The wind had now completely fallen, and as Ben and his companion, as well as ourselves, had been awake all the previous night, we felt too weary to continue working the oars. We were, also, both hungry and thirsty, though we had hitherto been too much excited to think about it. Halliday was, as usual, the first to cry out.“Of course, we will get some food for you, sir. I forgot how sharp set you must have been,” said Ben; “but as we have no galley aboard this craft of ours, you must be content to eat your supper raw.”“We shall be content to eat anything we can get our teeth into,” cried Halliday. “Oh, do give me a cup of water, as we had only a few thimblefuls on board the big raft.”Ben quickly drew a small-sized cupful from one of several casks ranged round the raft.“I should like to serve out more, gentlemen; but Mr Boxall will agree with me that it’s necessary to be careful, as our stock is but small, and we shall not get more till we reach the shore—and perhaps not even then.”Ben had secured some flour, which he rolled up into small balls. We ate these thankfully, with some salt fish, from which they assisted to take off the saltness. We made a better meal than we had enjoyed since we left the ship; but I observed that neither Ben nor his companion ate anything.Night now came on. The ocean was as calm as a mirror, and the stare came forth from the cloudless sky and shone down upon us, their soft light tending greatly to tranquillise our spirits. One of us kept watch at a time, while the rest lay down, with the sail as an awning, on the planks with which Ben had formed a raised deck to the raft. We could dimly distinguish the large raft in the distance; while voices, borne over the tranquil ocean with peculiar distinctness, reached our ears, though I could not make out what was said. Again there came shrieks and cries, then all was quiet. Once more loud voices—as if the people were holding a violent debate, or were fiercely disputing—reached us. After all was quiet, I lay down and slept as soundly as I had ever done in my life.

The people on the raft, overwhelmed with horror at the fearful catastrophe which had occurred, were for a time unable to exert themselves, and had we not been astern of the ship a large portion of our party would probably have perished; but as it was, no one was hurt. The boats, instead of returning to our assistance, continued to pull away to the southward; they did not even stop to take on board Ben and his companion, who, by the light of the burning ship, could be seen at some distance.

As soon as those on the raft began somewhat to recover from their consternation, they rose to their feet, uttering the most fearful imprecations on the heads of those who, it was very evident, were so cruelly deserting them. The brave boatswain was the only one among the Spaniards who retained his presence of mind. He and I, with Boxall and Halliday, managed to hoist a sail; when a light breeze enabled us to get sufficiently clear of the burning wreck to avoid the masts and spars which came falling down, hissing, into the water. Several of the people shouted out, urging us to sail in chase of the boats; but even had we attempted it with a strong breeze in our favour, they would of course soon have got far ahead of us. As it was, the wind again fell, and we lay on the calm ocean unable to impel our raft either towards the shore or in any other direction, while we gazed with sad eyes at the burning ship.

I looked round for Antonio and young Pedro, but could discover neither of them on the raft. The friendly disposition the latter had exhibited towards us made me hope that he had escaped in one of the boats. Boxall said that he had seen Antonio not long before he himself had got on the raft, and that he was nearly certain he had been left on the burning wreck. Notwithstanding the bad opinion Ben had formed of him, we agreed that we should have been glad had he been with us, as he was certainly one of the most intelligent and active seamen on board. Boxall, Halliday, and I sat near the mast with the boatswain, who tried in vain to arouse his companions to exertion,—urging them to secure the raft more firmly, and to endeavour to pick up anything which might be floating by. Those who had at first obeyed him willingly, now only grumbled; and from words I heard spoken, I was afraid that, should he attempt to enforce his orders, a mutiny would break out. On mentioning my fears to Boxall,—“We must try and defend him then,” he answered. “I trust that some will remain faithful, and rally round us.”

The night continued calm. This was the time when, if active, we might possibly have obtained some provisions, and might certainly have improved the raft. We three did what we could, but the people would not move out of our way, and no one would lend a hand. We succeeded, however, in picking up several articles: a boat-hook, some oars, and two casks—but whether they contained water or spirits we could not be certain. Boxall said that as they floated light he believed they were spirit-casks, and suggested that it might be wiser to let them go, in case the people should get drunk with their contents; still, as there was a doubt on the subject, and we were unable at once to examine them, we secured them to the raft.

The calmness of the sea alone saved many of the people sleeping near the edge from slipping overboard, or getting their limbs jammed between the openings in the spars. It was easy, however, to foretell what would happen should a strong wind and heavy sea get up: even should the raft hold together, many of those on it must be washed away; while if all hands had exerted themselves, it might have been greatly strengthened, and made secure against the dangers it would in all probability have to encounter.

Weary with our exertions, we at length agreed to go back to the mast and rest till daylight; but on reaching the spot where we had before taken our post, near the boatswain, we found it occupied, and were compelled to content ourselves with a less secure place at some distance from him. Not trusting those around us, we agreed that one should keep awake and watch over the other two. It fell to my lot to keep the first watch; and so, while Boxall and Halliday stretched themselves lengthways on a plank, I sat by their side.

I had not been there long when some men began talking near me (probably unaware that I understood Spanish). One of the men was, I made out, the boatswain’s mate, and the others were ordinary seamen. They were speaking of the boatswain, and abusing him for what they called his tyranny. Each one had some grievance to complain of.

“We have him now in our power,” said the boatswain’s mate; “let us revenge ourselves on him.”

“But who is to take command of the raft and guide us to the shore?” asked one of the men.

“I will do that,” was the answer; “I am as good a seaman as he is. And when we get to land we will build huts and live at our ease, instead of setting off, as he will certainly wish to do, to find some port where we can start for Spain, where most of you will be sent back to the galleys.”

A good deal more was said to the same effect; and my immediate impression was that the men he was addressing were emancipated convicts, and capable of any atrocity. I longed to warn the boatswain at once of the plot hatching for his destruction; but I knew that if I moved I should be suspected. I hoped, however, that at all events the wretches would not attempt to carry their nefarious plan out that night, and I resolved to take the first opportunity of telling the boatswain what I had heard. Growing very sleepy, I was compelled at last to awake Halliday and get him to keep watch. I told him to arouse me should the men make any movement, or show that they were about to carry out their treacherous project.

I went to sleep with the thought on my mind of the boatswain’s danger; and I suppose this caused me to awake suddenly. Starting up, I found that Halliday had dropped off to sleep by my side. The raft had drifted to some distance from the ship, which was, however, still burning, the glare falling on the figures of my companions in misfortune,—some lying down, others sleeping in sitting postures. I looked around towards the spot where the boatswain’s mate and his associates had been; they were not there. I crept towards the place where I had left the boatswain; but could not distinguish him. Happening to look to the further end of the raft, I saw a hand lifted up holding a dagger, which gleamed in the light of the burning ship. I shouted to Boxall and Halliday, who sprang to their feet; while I, followed by them, rushed towards the spot where I had seen the weapon raised.

“Stop! stop!” I shouted in Spanish. “Commit no murder.” My voice aroused most of the other sleeping occupants of the raft; but before my friends and I could reach the spot the dagger had descended, and we were met by the glaring eyes of the boatswain’s mate and his convict associates.

“You have killed the brave boatswain,” I could not help exclaiming.

“You shall share his fate, whatever that is,” growled out the murderer. “Who are you, who dares to interfere with me and my friends?”

I made no answer. The man held the still reeking dagger in his hand, and I could not help fearing that, should I get within his reach, he would plunge it into me.

The people on the raft were now shouting and talking together—some arranging themselves on our side, while others appeared inclined to take part with the boatswain’s mate and his vile associates.

“Where is the boatswain? where is the boatswain? Pedro Alvez!” cried out some of the petty officers. No answer came. All the officers had their swords, and Halliday and I had got hold of two of the axes which had been taken to form the raft. Boxall told me to urge the carpenter, who seemed to be the chief in rank, to cut down the mutineers at once, and eitherheave them overboard or lash them to the raft, as he was certain they would otherwise take an early opportunity of attacking us when unprepared, and would put us all to death. He hesitated, however, observing that most of them had their knives, and that it would be no easy matter to overcome them.

Again voices shouted, “Where is Pedro Alvez? Let him show himself.”

“He went overboard and was drowned; and many more will follow him, if we are interfered with,” answered some one from the end of the raft occupied by the mutineers.

This answer evidently alarmed the carpenter, who was a very different sort of man from the brave boatswain.

“We will remain quiet till we are attacked, and then, of course, we will defend ourselves,” he observed in a low voice.

“Our only chance will be to keep together and be constantly on the watch,” observed Boxall. “I wish he would let me have his sword; I suspect that I should make a better use of it than he will.”

The carpenter declined to give up his own weapon, but promised to try and get one—as he was sure that the English officer would make good use of it.

Boxall had hitherto been able to arm himself only with a heavy piece of wood, but which his strong arm was likely to use with good effect. In a short time, however, the gunner brought him a sword.

“Tell your brother officer that I am sure he will fight well with it, and do his best to maintain order.”

“Thank him,” answered Boxall. “He may trust me.”

Something like order was at length restored; and the mutineers held their post on the after-part of the raft, while we kept ours round the mast. Thus the remainder of the night passed away.

The sun rose at last hot and red over the calm ocean; the heat became intense, and every one was crying out for food and water. Halliday whispered to me that he had taken my advice, and had filled his pockets with biscuits and sausages—which he invited Boxall and me to partake of. We agreed that they would be nothing among so many; still we did not like to eat them in the presence of others.

“I ate as much as I wanted during the night,” said Halliday; “and I think if you were to sit down behind me, you might be able to get some food into your mouth without being observed. I should like to give the carpenter some, though.”

I undertook to convey a small portion to him. He was very grateful for it, and did not even ask if we had any more. I then told him of the casks. He called several men whom he could trust; who went to the side and, with our assistance, got the casks on the raft. The larger one contained spirits, the other water. On discovering this, a number of the people made a rush towards them, afraid of losing their share,—and we were compelled to keep them at bay with our weapons.

“The water and spirits shall be served out so that each shall have a due share,” cried the carpenter. Some small cups were found which served as measures; and the people, awed by the bold front we exhibited, waited patiently till each person had received his proper portion. Very nearly half the cask of water was thus exhausted; and we should have acted more wisely had we waited till the people’s thirst had become greater. Some of them had apparently a few biscuits and other eatable things in their pockets; but besides this, a cask of pork, which had been thrown overboard, and hauled up on the raft before it left the ship, was the only food we possessed. Our only hope of escaping starvation was by speedily reaching the shore.

“How soon shall we get there?” asked Halliday of Boxall.

“Never—unless a breeze springs up, and these fellows act like rational beings instead of madmen,” he answered, in a more gloomy tone than I had ever yet heard him use. “We must not conceal from ourselves the fearful position in which we are placed. These ruffians will probably try to destroy the gunner and the other officers as they did the boatswain; and watchful as we may be, we shall scarcely be able to guard ourselves against them.”

“I wish we had Ben with us,” said Halliday. “A stout, brave fellow such as he is would have been of great help, and with the assistance of the better disposed we might have kept the villains at bay. I wonder what can have become of him!”

“He and his companion have probably paddled towards the shore,” answered Boxall. “Self-preservation is the first thing a man thinks of; and though he might not, under other circumstances, have deserted us, he probably thought himself much better off on his light raft than he would be on this large one,—and was afraid, if he came near us, that others would attempt to gain a footing on it, and thus overload it.”

“No, no; I do not think that Ben would willingly have deserted us,” I observed. “I am very certain that he would have done his best to help us. He probably lost sight of our raft during the night, and could not find it again; or one of the boats might have returned, and taken him and his companion on board.”

“Little chance of that,” answered Boxall. “There is no excuse for their cowardly desertion of us, and they are not likely to have come back for the sake of rescuing any one.”

This style of conversation, more of which I need not repeat, served to pass away the time. While the calm continued, our condition did not change for the better, as we could not move, and no sail could approach to our assistance. The Spaniards around us were talking in even a more gloomy strain,—uttering curses, not loud but deep, on the heads of those who had basely deserted them; while the mutineers sat together at the end of the raft muttering to each other, and, as we suspected, hatching mischief.

The day wore on, and the sun struck down on our unprotected heads with intense force; while the bright glare on the water affected our eyes, and compelled us to shield them with our hands,—for the sail, though hoisted, afforded us only a partial shade. The mutineers now began to cry out that they wanted more food and water.

“It is not time yet to serve it out,” answered the carpenter, who had assumed the command. “If we use it up now, we shall have none for to-morrow.”

“Better eat and drink while we are hungry and thirsty, and let to-morrow take care of itself,” exclaimed one of the mutineers.

The carpenter took no notice of the remark, and the mutineers remained quiet for some minutes, apparently not having made up their minds how to act.

“Depend upon it, these fellows will attack us before long,” observed Boxall; “we must be prepared. Tell the carpenter what I say.” The latter agreed with Boxall, and spoke to the few around him whom he could trust.

Boxall now suggested that we should place the three casks and some loose planks so as to form a barricade in front of us, by which means we might better resist an attack. We were engaged doing this, when the leader of the mutineers cried out,—“What are you about? Let these things remain as they are. We want food and water: if it’s not given to us, we will come and take it.”

The carpenter, instead of boldly adhering to what he knew was wise, was advised by his more timid companions, and replied that he would give them a little pork and water provided they should remain quiet. I told Boxall; who desired me to warn him that he was acting very imprudently, as they would be sure to ask for more. He persisted, however; and telling the men to come for their rations, he gave each a small measure of water and a piece of pork. On this, several who had remained neutral joined them, and also insisted on receiving their rations. Being supported by the mutineers, the rest of the people very naturally cried out that they must have their share,—fearing that otherwise the mutineers would get the whole of it.

Scarcely had the distribution been made, when the mutineers again demanded another supply.

“We must be firm, or, finding that they can overawe us, they will insist on doing whatever they please,” said Boxall.

The carpenter could not fail to see the wisdom of this advice, and replied that not another drop of water or particle of food would be served out till the next morning. The mutineers received the answer in sullen silence, making at the time no movement; and we began to hope that they would remain quiet. As, however, they soon again felt the gnawings of hunger, they began to talk together in low voices; and, influenced by the instincts of savage beasts, they seemed determined to take by force what they wanted.

Their leader, starting up, cried out,—“It’s time to have more food; come, Mr Carpenter, give it to us at once.”

“Be quiet, friends; you know that is impossible,” was the mild reply.

It failed to influence them, however; and drawing their knives, with which most of them were armed, they sprang towards us. Just at that moment some one at the other end of the raft shouted out,—“A sail! a sail!” The welcome sound arrested even the savage wretches, and, sheathing their knives, they looked round in the direction in which the man was pointing. We cast our eyes towards the spot. There could be no doubt that there was a sail, but I saw at once that it must be a very small vessel, or a boat. I thought it best, however, not to tell the Spaniards this.

The mutineers sat down, looking out towards the sail. Though the prospect of relief was sufficient, one might have supposed, to arouse every one, yet so weak and dispirited were many of the Spaniards, that they scarcely moved from their positions, but sat, as before, with their heads resting on their knees. One thing was certain—that the craft, whatever she was, was standing towards us, bringing up a breeze; yet she approached very slowly.

“I suspected from the first what she was,” observed Boxall. “Let me have your glass, Charlie, that I may be certain.” I gave him my telescope, which I had kept slung at my back. “As I thought: it is a small raft—probably Ben’s. Honest fellow, I wronged him. He calculated the direction in which we were likely to have drifted, and is coming to our assistance.”

In a short time the carpenter also observed to me that it was a raft, with our countryman on it.

“We will not tell the mutineers so—let them find it out for themselves; as they may form a plan for taking possession of it, if they think that it would serve them better than this one,” I observed.

How anxiously we waited the arrival of the raft! It came on very slowly, for the breeze was light. Our own sail remained hoisted, but as one of the sheets had been let go it remained partly furled round the mast, and did not move the raft. Looking through my glass, I made out Ben and another man. It was evident, then, that they had not succeeded in saving any people from the burning wreck; probably, therefore, all had perished.

The raft was soon visible to the dullest eyes of all on board. As she approached, Boxall shouted to Ben,and advised him not to approach too near—telling him of the disorderly state of those with us, and that they would certainly attempt to take from him any water or provisions he might have. Ben on this hauled down his sail, and we saw him apparently endeavouring to make his companion understand the warning he had received.

“We will do as you advise, sir,” he shouted in return. “We have got food and water enough on board for three or four people; and knowing that you were likely to be short of both, we came to look for you. My mate here is the brother of the boatswain, and is a very good fellow. As you say, it will be dangerous for us to come alongside; but if Mr Boxall, Mr Halliday, and you will swim off to us, we will run in closer and take you aboard.”

“No, no! don’t come any nearer; we can all easily reach you,” answered Boxall. He did not wish to let the Spaniard know of his brother’s death, in case he might be less willing to remain faithful to us.

The mutineers, as well as the other people, suspected from this conversation what we were about to do, and also from seeing that the raft did not come nearer. It struck me that, since the poor boatswain was dead, we ought to invite the carpenter to accompany us. Boxall agreed with me; I therefore asked him in a low voice if he could swim, and was willing to try and get on board the small raft.

“I cannot swim,” he answered; “and if I could, I would not desert these poor people who are trusting to me, for the mutineers would very soon put them to death. But as you are not bound to remain, I will help you to escape.”

Thanking him heartily, I said that we would leap overboard suddenly, in order that no one might attempt to stop us. We were all very sorry to leave the carpenter, for we could not help fearing that when we should be gone the mutineers would attack him, and in all probability treat him as they had done the boatswain. We were still talking to him, when once more the ruffians at the other end of the raft shouted out that they must have water and provisions served out to them immediately.

“Ask them to wait patiently till the evening, and say that you will then do as they wish; you will have fewer mouths to feed by that time.”

I little thought at the moment how truly I spoke; for scarcely had the carpenter uttered the words when the mutineers rose in a body, and, drawing their knives, made a desperate rush at us. We had only time to spring to our feet and defend ourselves. Though we might have leaped overboard and escaped, we felt that it would be cowardly to desert the carpenter and those who sided with him. As it was, three of the unfortunate people who remained neutral, and were without weapons to defend themselves, being nearest to the savages, were stabbed before we could help them. We fought with the greatest desperation. Boxall cut down one of the fellows, and the carpenter and I wounded two others. Still they came on, as if resolved to overpower us. I observed, also, that Ben was near enough to see what was taking place, and was hoisting his sail, unable to resist his desire to come to our assistance. Should he come near enough to enable any of the people on our raft to leap on to his, I felt sure that our chance of escape would be lost.

“Are we bound to sacrifice our lives for these people?” I asked Boxall.

“Not when we have lost all hope of assisting them,” he answered. “Ask the carpenter again if he will accompany us.”

I was on the point of putting the question, when the ruffians—who seemed resolved on his destruction, believing that then they could have everything their own way—made a desperate rush at him. He cut down one of them, and would have treated the others in the same way, when his foot slipped, and he fell into an opening between the spars. They immediately, before he could regain his feet, threw themselves upon him, and plunged their knives into his body.

“It is useless further to contend with the villains. Now is our time!” cried Boxall; and driving back the fellows who were attacking us, we made our way to the side of the raft.

“Now, Halliday, leap!” shouted Boxall, while he kept those who were attempting to stop us at bay. Halliday plunged into the water, letting go his axe as he did so, and struck out towards Ben’s raft.

“Keep hold of your sword, Charlie,” said Boxall; “I will defend you from these fellows.” I did as he advised me; and putting the sword in my mouth, where I held it fast between my teeth, I leaped into the water, and struck out with all my might towards the small raft. With a sweep of his weapon my brave friend drove back the ruffians, who had now turned their fury on him, and were pressing him hard; then springing overboard, he followed close at my heels. Happily, none of the savages could swim,—or, at all events, they dared not trust themselves in the water, fearing that if they did so Boxall might have attacked them with his sword; though some, in their rage, threw large pieces of wood and other articles, which came very near us; and one of the most furious flung his knife, which happily passed between Boxall’s legs. Shrieks, cries, and shouts for us to come back, were uttered by our enemies, with threats of vengeance; but these, of course, only made us strike out the faster.

Ben and his companion, in spite of the warning we had given them, had hoisted their sail, and urging on the raft at the same time with a couple of oars, were approaching us rapidly.

“Shorten sail!” cried Boxall; “don’t come nearer; we can easily reach you.”

Ben obeyed; and we had the satisfaction of seeing Halliday—who, having no weapon in his mouth, had kept well ahead of us—helped on to the raft. Just then Ben cast a look of dismay towards us. “Strike with all your might, and splash with your feet! Make haste! make haste!” he shouted frantically. At the same time seizing a lump of wood, he flung it into the water on one side of us; while he called to his companion, who had been steering the raft, to put in his oar to help us. The thought of the cause of his excitement flashed into my mind: he had seen close to us a huge shark, which he dreaded every instant would seize our legs. I had, I may say, less fear for myself than for Boxall, who was a little behind me; and I had made but a few more strokes when Ben and the Spaniard seized me by the hands, almost jerking off my arms as they hoisted me on board. The moment my feet were on the raft, my first impulse was to take my sword in my hand, ready to attack the shark should it approach.

In a few seconds, greatly to my relief, I saw Boxall hauled up likewise. Scarcely were his feet out of the water when the hideous monster made a dash at the raft, his jaws closing on a projecting part of it, which trembled with the blow. A stroke which I dealt with right good will at its throat,—for a moment exposed to me as it turned on its back to bite,—made it relinquish its hold; and it darted away.

Frail as was the structure on which we now found ourselves, we felt in comparative safety; but the impulse which had been given to the raft before the sail was lowered sent it dangerously near the big one. Judging from the attitudes of the people on it, we could make out that several were preparing to swim off to us; with the intention, in all likelihood, of making us prisoners, and taking possession of the provisions and water on the raft. On this Boxall called to Ben to work one of the oars, and Halliday and I assisted the Spaniard at the other. While we did our utmost to increase our distance from those whom we were now compelled to look upon as our enemies, they were all shouting and shrieking; some ordering us to come back, others entreating us not to leave them.

As we had to pull against the wind, we made but slow progress; and at length three of the boldest of the mutineers, urged by their companions,—probably because they were good swimmers,—leaped into the sea with their knives in their mouths, and made towards us. The attempt was a mad one, as with our swords and axes we could easily have prevented them from getting on our raft. As they evidently had not seen the monster shark which had so nearly caught us, I shouted to them, telling them of their danger, and advising them to go back; but, believing that it was merely to prevent them from attacking us, they disregarded my warning.

On they came, swimming with long powerful strokes, and threatened quickly to overtake us. Unwilling to injure them, we continued to row away as fast as we could—now and then turning our heads to watch them. They had got about half-way when a piercing shriek rent the air, and one of them, throwing up his arms, disappeared beneath the surface: a shark had seized him. His companions, seeing what had happened, turned round and endeavoured to regain the raft. We watched them anxiously, for we had no desire for their destruction, and gladly would we have saved them if we could. They had got some way back, and we hoped that they would succeed in reaching the raft; but when about a dozen fathoms from it, another huge shark rose to the surface, and dragged down a second shrieking victim. The third swam on frantically, crying out to his companions for assistance. They stretched out their arms to him, and we were thankful to see that he at length gained the raft in safety.

What the fate of those miserable wretches would be, with no one to command them, to maintain discipline, or to direct them how to gain the land, we dared not think. As for ourselves, we felt in comparative safety on our small but well-constructed raft.

Boxall consulted with Ben whether we could take off any of the unfortunate people; but the latter was strongly opposed to the attempt being made.

“In the first place, it would be impossible to get off those we might select,” said Ben. “And then,” he added, “this craft carries us very well in smooth water; but should it come on to blow, and a heavy sea get up, it’s more than she would do if we had half-a-dozen more people on board. Then, you see, we have water and provisions for ourselves; but we should be on short commons if we had more people to consume it.”

Ben’s arguments prevailed; and though we felt sad at the thought of having to leave so many people to almost certain destruction, yet we could do no more.

The wind had now completely fallen, and as Ben and his companion, as well as ourselves, had been awake all the previous night, we felt too weary to continue working the oars. We were, also, both hungry and thirsty, though we had hitherto been too much excited to think about it. Halliday was, as usual, the first to cry out.

“Of course, we will get some food for you, sir. I forgot how sharp set you must have been,” said Ben; “but as we have no galley aboard this craft of ours, you must be content to eat your supper raw.”

“We shall be content to eat anything we can get our teeth into,” cried Halliday. “Oh, do give me a cup of water, as we had only a few thimblefuls on board the big raft.”

Ben quickly drew a small-sized cupful from one of several casks ranged round the raft.

“I should like to serve out more, gentlemen; but Mr Boxall will agree with me that it’s necessary to be careful, as our stock is but small, and we shall not get more till we reach the shore—and perhaps not even then.”

Ben had secured some flour, which he rolled up into small balls. We ate these thankfully, with some salt fish, from which they assisted to take off the saltness. We made a better meal than we had enjoyed since we left the ship; but I observed that neither Ben nor his companion ate anything.

Night now came on. The ocean was as calm as a mirror, and the stare came forth from the cloudless sky and shone down upon us, their soft light tending greatly to tranquillise our spirits. One of us kept watch at a time, while the rest lay down, with the sail as an awning, on the planks with which Ben had formed a raised deck to the raft. We could dimly distinguish the large raft in the distance; while voices, borne over the tranquil ocean with peculiar distinctness, reached our ears, though I could not make out what was said. Again there came shrieks and cries, then all was quiet. Once more loud voices—as if the people were holding a violent debate, or were fiercely disputing—reached us. After all was quiet, I lay down and slept as soundly as I had ever done in my life.

Chapter Five.A frightful encounter with sharks—A chase, and an escape—Land! land!—Breakers ahead.I was aroused by a cry from one of my companions; and, sitting up, I saw a small raft with four men on it approaching from the direction of the large one. I at once knew that it must have been formed by them during the night, for the purpose of trying to overtake us. The men were urging it on with frantic efforts, evidently resolved to board us; so we got out our oars, and began to row away to keep ahead of them. Day was just breaking. They probably had wished to surprise us during the darkness of night, but had been unable to finish their raft in time. We were, it must be understood, to the eastward of them, and a somewhat stiffish breeze had just got up, blowing from off the shore, which, although the water remained pretty calm, impeded our progress,—for our raft, though strongly put together, and able to contend with a heavy sea, was deep in the water, and could not be impelled by rowing at much speed. If overtaken, we must expect, we knew, a fearful struggle; for though we outnumbered those who were approaching, four desperate men, all armed, might overpower us, as we possessed no missiles, not even a boarding-pike or boat-hook with which to drive them off—nor could we prevent them from getting alongside, or commencing the fight till their feet were actually on our raft.On they came, uttering fearful oaths. “They have probably attacked the spirit-cask, and in their drunken fury are indifferent to consequences,” observed Boxall. “It will be madness to show them the slightest mercy if they get up with us.”While we rowed away with all our might, I could not help frequently turning my head to watch their progress. They had, I should have said, stepped a mast on their raft, but had no sail; indeed, they could not have used it had they possessed one. This was another sign of the haste in which they must have embarked. Their raft was also, it was evident, carelessly put together; and as it drew nearer we saw that the men could with difficulty keep their feet on it—for the wind by this time having caused the sea to get up slightly, it rocked from side to side.They were within half a cable’s length of us, when the feet of one of the men slipped, and overboard he fell. His companions, not seeing him, continued to row on. He shrieked to them to stop; the man next to him was stooping down, holding out his hands to haul him in, when suddenly he too was drawn into the water. Piercing cries sounded in our ears. “See, see,” exclaimed Ben; “the sharks have got them!” In an instant they had disappeared, while their companions looked on horror-struck. The next moment a huge shark rose to the surface. One of the men struck it with his oar, which was immediately torn from his grasp; and directly afterwards another shark darted at him. He seized his axe, and, holding on to the mast, attempted to defend himself, while the remaining man continued to row as desperately as before. We would gladly even then have saved the wretched men, but we were unable to do anything to help them. There must have been half-a-dozen sharks or more surrounding the raft, one after the other attacking the frail structure, and threatening every instant to capsize it. In vain the man on the fore-part of the raft attempted to turn it round; again and again the savage creatures assailed it; and at length one, more ferocious than its companions, threw itself upon the raft, and over it went—the two unhappy beings instantly becoming the prey of the monsters.We turned our eyes away from the sight, not without a dread that we might ere long be attacked in the same way. We had, however, the advantage of a strong raft, considerably higher out of the water than the other; and thus we had less reason to fear that the sharks would succeed in upsetting it.“It serves the fellows right,” observed Ben; “though, villains as they were, I could have wished them a better fate.”Wearied with our exertions, and as there was no immediate necessity for rowing—seeing we could not hope to reach the shore until a breeze got up in our favour—we put in our oars to rest.“Of course, Mr Boxall, you will take command of the raft,” said Ben, touching his hat; “and maybe you will think fit to pipe to breakfast, as, I dare say, Mr Blore and Mr Halliday are getting hungry again.”“That I will, very gladly,” said Boxall; “and I will try, at all events, to do my best for all hands.”“Hungry! I should think I am,” exclaimed Halliday.We had some more fish, with some biscuit,—which, though soaked in salt water, afforded nourishment. The fish we could eat raw better than some salt pork which Ben told me he had on board. Although our food was not palatable, we had not much apprehension of starving. We were chiefly anxious about water, of which our supply was very small; and we could not help being struck by Ben’s fidelity in coming to look for us, knowing, as he must, that we should consume so much of the precious liquid, which was little more than sufficient for himself and his companion.The day wore on, and still no breeze got up. “I wish that we had had an oar apiece, as we might then have had better hopes of making progress with the raft towards the shore,” I observed. Halliday, however, declared that he thought we were pretty well off as we were,—as it would be a pity to exert ourselves, and to find that after all it was of no use; for a strong breeze from the shore would send us back in an hour the distance we had made good during a day’s labour.“Still, if every day we make some progress, when the breeze does come from the westward we shall be so much nearer the shore,” observed Boxall. “Therefore we ought, while we have strength, to do our best to urge on our raft.”Though we were all agreed as to the wisdom of this, yet the sun came down with such strength on our heads that we had little inclination to exert ourselves. We had also hopes that, when the breeze did get up, a sail might come near us. This, perhaps, made us exert ourselves less than we should otherwise have done.The large raft, I should have said, was still in sight; and, looking through my telescope, I could see the people moving about on it,—though, as far as I could judge, there were fewer than there had been when we left it. What had become of the others? Too probably many had been killed by the ruffianly mutineers; and some, having succumbed to hunger and thirst, had been thrown overboard.As the day wore on, we could not help acknowledging that we felt weaker than we had been, while a strong inclination to sleep overpowered us. So, while we waited anxiously for a breeze, we spent some hours sleeping under the sail,—persuading ourselves that we should be better able to row during the cool hours of night, when we determined to set manfully to work.I may venture to say, though I have not before taken notice of it, that a feeling of compassion made us unwilling to desert altogether the unfortunate people still on the raft until, for our own safety, we were compelled to do so. Before long, it was but too probable, their numbers would be greatly diminished. Already six of the mutineers had lost their lives, and their fate would, we hoped, be a warning to the others; perhaps, too, the better disposed people might gain the upper hand.“Whether we can venture to take them off now, is a question,” observed Boxall; “but we may possibly be able to reach the shore and gain assistance for them: and it would certainly tend to prevent them giving way to despair, could we, before we leave the neighbourhood, tell them of our intentions.”Halliday and I acquiesced in this; Ben was doubtful.“After the spirit they have shown, I am afraid it would be of no use, sir,” he observed. “They are not to be dealt with like Englishmen; and if we go near them, they will only try to get hold of our raft. I will ask José what he thinks.”The Spaniard shook his head. “They will not believe us, señor,” he answered. “Our officers having deserted them, they will not believe that a party of foreigners can intend to treat them with better faith. As they have killed my poor brother, one of the best of men, so they will try to kill us.”I could not help thinking that there was much force in what José said; still, until a breeze should get up, we agreed to remain where we were.Another day came to a close. Occasionally we could see the triangular fins of sharks gliding round the raft, their wicked eyes turned up towards us; but they made no attempt to attack us. After supper we again held a discussion as to what was best to be done. At last compassion gained the day, and we agreed to approach the large raft sufficiently near to hail the people, and to tell them that we would, if possible, send them assistance.“You will do so at great risk,” said José. “I warn you of that; but, at the same time, I will not be the one to oppose your kind intentions towards my countrymen.”We accordingly took our oars and began slowly to approach the large raft. As we drew near, we could hear the voices of the people on it; some shouting in hoarse tones, others shrieking and crying out, as if imploring mercy.“It is useless to go on, señors,” said José. “They will not listen to reason.”Still, impelled by a feeling superadded to that of the compassion which chiefly influenced us, and for which I can scarcely now account,—resembling that which is said to induce birds or other animals to hurry forward into the open mouth of the serpent,—we continued to row towards the fatal raft. Perhaps, too, Boxall, who was the person to order us to stop, still hoped that our presence, and the promise we were about to give, might induce the people to remain quiet till assistance could reach them.At length we got near enough to hail; but it was some time before we could make our voices heard, or the uproar ceased. I desired José to tell them what we intended doing.“Come nearer, come nearer,” was the answer. “Give us a little water and a little food; and if you will take two of our number,—only two,—who are suffering greatly, it will show us that you are in earnest, and that you wish to save our lives.”“Don’t trust them, don’t trust them, señor,” cried José, in an agony of fear. “They don’t mean what they say. If once we get within their power, they will detain us.”I told Boxall what José said. He still hesitated, however. Just then I felt the wind fan my cheek.“Here comes a breeze from the westward,” shouted Ben.“We have given our message,” I observed to Boxall; “and I cannot help thinking that José is right. We must not forget the sample they have given us of their feelings.”“I am afraid it must be so,” said Boxall with a sigh. “For our own safety, we must make for the shore without further delay. Hoist the sail, Ben. I will take the steering-oar; José can manage the bow oar; and you, Halliday, and Charlie can tend the halyards and sheet.”We assisted Ben to hoist the sail, which was somewhat large for the raft, except under a very light wind. Before the sail was set, however, the breeze had greatly increased, and scarcely had we brought the sheet aft when over went the mast, carried off at the heel. We of course set to work to get in the sail, while Ben, with an axe, endeavoured to cut out the broken heel from the step, in which he had fixed it. This took some time, as the raft was rocking about far more than it had hitherto done, and he could not work quickly in the darkness. Having at length succeeded, he had next to chop the heel of the mast to the proper size to fit the step. He was working away as rapidly as possible, and we were stooping down to assist him, when José shouted out, “They are coming, they are coming!” Looking round, we observed that the sail of the big raft was hoisted, and that she was coming towards us faster than we should have supposed it was possible for her to move. In little more than a minute she might be up with us; while the wild shouts and execrations of the miscreants who were on the raft rang in our ears, and showed us what he had to expect from them.Ben worked away as composedly but as rapidly as he could, while we were engaged in taking a reef in the sail.“It’s done,” cried Ben at last; and lifting the mast, we found, to our great satisfaction, that the heel fitted into the step. We immediately set up four stays.“Be smart now,” cried Boxall. “Hoist away with the sail.”He had good reason to give the order, for, as we looked round, we saw the head of the big raft with several people on it, some rowing to give it more impetus, while one stood with a boat-hook ready to catch hold of us. In another instant the fellow might have hooked on, or have run the point of it into the back of Boxall, who had again resumed the steering-oar; but, hoisting away with all our might, we got the sail up, and while Ben was making fast the halyards Halliday and I carried the sheet aft.Over the now foaming sea we flew, while the big raft followed close astern,—those on it uttering the most fearful oaths and execrations as they found themselves disappointed in their project of seizing us. Our light raft went over the water far more rapidly than theirs, and we soon distanced them; but for long their shrieks and cries sounded in our ears.“I thought, sir, that they intended treachery,” observed José to me; “and we may be thankful that we escaped them.” I agreed with him; at the same time, having escaped, we had the satisfactory reflection that we would have done our best to have rendered them assistance, and that we could not blame ourselves for deserting our fellow-creatures. What would now be their fate, it was not difficult to say. They might possibly reach the shore; but the large raft, hurriedly put together, was but ill calculated to resist the now fast rising sea, and we could not but fear that many of the unfortunate wretches would speedily be washed off it. Our little raft was tolerably strong, but the way the pieces of which it was constructed worked, gave us a notion what would be the fate of theirs.We were tossed fearfully about, and had to run now to one side, now to the other, to balance it as it was lifted by the seas. Boxall kept his seat on a cask, endeavouring to steer it, but he had at length to call me to his assistance, while Ben helped José. On and on we flew. As the clouds gathered in the sky the night grew darker and darker, and we soon lost sight of the large raft, while the voices of those on it no longer reached our ears. I asked Boxall what he thought would happen to the miserable people.“Too probably they have been washed off theraft, or it has been capsized, by this time,” he answered. “I confess, I do not like to think of what must have been their fate.”Our thoughts were now turned towards what might happen to ourselves. We had no means of judging how far off we were from the coast, but I calculated that, as we had not seen it, we could not be within fifteen miles or so of it—an opinion which I expressed to Boxall.“You forget that, low down as we are in the water, our horizon is very circumscribed; while for miles together, on this part of the African coast, the sandy shore rises but a few feet above the level of the sea,” he answered. “It may therefore be much nearer, than we suppose. We must, at all events, keep a good look-out; although, with the wind blowing strong, and running as we are directly before it, we shall have no choice where to land, and shall have to make good our footing on the dry land as best we can.”We were silent for some time; indeed, we had enough to do to steer the raft.“Keep a bright look-out, Ben,” cried Boxall. “Do you see anything of the land?”“No, sir,” answered Ben, somewhat surprised; for he supposed, as I had done, that we were still a long way off. “I don’t expect to see it for the next three or four hours.”“We may reach it sooner than you fancy,” said Boxall.“Very glad to hear that, sir,” answered Ben; “for though I am very well satisfied with this craft of ours, I would sooner feel my feet on dry land than aboard of her, if it should come on to blow much harder than it does now.”I suspect we all felt as Ben did. The sea was fast rising, and as the foaming crests of the tumbling waves came hissing over the raft, we had to hold on tightly to avoid being carried away. But our chief anxiety was about our mast. Should that give way, the raft would be left tossing helplessly amid the seas, and in all probability be washed off. We had, however, stayed it up securely, and we could only hope that it would hold.I now proposed taking another reef in the sail.“No, we will let it stand,” said Boxall; “we shall only run a greater risk than we do now of being pooped, should we shorten sail, and if the wind does not increase we shall easily carry it; indeed, by the look of the sky, I have hopes that the weather will not grow worse,—and perhaps by the morning we shall have it calm again.”“We may then congratulate ourselves on having had the strong breeze which is sending us along so famously,” observed Halliday.“We shall have reason to be thankful to Him who has caused the westerly wind to blow,” answered Boxall. “It might have come from the eastward, and we should have been driven still further off the coast—when, if not swamped, we would in all probability die of starvation, did we fail to fall in with a passing vessel.”Fully two hours passed by, and still Ben’s sharp eyes could not detect the land. We had been steering by the stars, and though they had for some time been obscured, we had reason to believe that the wind had not changed, and therefore, being directly before it, that we had kept the same course.I asked Boxall how fast he thought we were going through the water.“Considering the breeze we have got, I should say five or six knots an hour,” he answered.“Beg pardon, sir,” said Ben, who overheard him; “you forget, I dare say, that this raft does not sail like a boat. I suspect that we don’t get much more than three or four knots out of her.”“I believe you are right, Ben,” answered Boxall. “In that case, it will take us an hour or so more than I calculated on to gain the shore. However, it may be to our advantage, for it will be far safer to land when it is calm than with so strong a breeze as is now blowing. At all events, unless the wind changes, we shall reach the shore at last.”Another hour went by. According to Boxall’s predictions, the weather was improving. The dark clouds which had obscured the sky cleared away, and the stars shone forth brightly as before; still the wind did not decrease, and the seas kept tumbling, foaming, and hissing around us as before. More than once we looked astern, thinking it possible that the large raft might be again within sight; but no sign of her could be seen. By degrees we had got accustomed to the tossing and the occasional breaking of the seas over us, and even had we expected to perform a much longer voyage we should not have complained; indeed, it now seems surprising to me how little concerned we all appeared to be.We were running much as we had been doing for the last three hours, when Ben exclaimed, “Land! land!”—and directly afterwards, “Breakers ahead!”We all looked out under the sail at what appeared to be the dark outline of a hilly country,—it seemed strange that we had not seen it before,—while the intervening line of white foaming breakers stretched out parallel with the coast, and threatened our destruction before we could reach it.“Do you see any opening through which we may pass, Ben?” asked Boxall.“No, sir; none at all,” answered Ben. “All we can do is to hold fast to the raft, and pray that we may be earned through the breakers.”“Had we not better lower the sail, then, and keep the raft off till daylight?” I asked.“We may lower the sail; but all the strength we possess could not keep us out of the breakers,” answered Boxall. “We had better do as Ben suggests—stand on, and hope to be carried safe through them. Hold fast, all of you!” cried Boxall; “here we are close upon them.”As he spoke, we saw the waters hissing and foaming and dancing up to a prodigious height, as it appeared, directly before us, while the land rose still more distinctly behind them. The next instant we were in their midst.“Hold fast! hold fast!” again shouted Boxall, “and we shall be carried safely through.”The breakers did not appear so high as they had done a little way off, and we all had hopes that Boxall’s predictions would prove correct. But we had not much time for thinking; my head whirled and I felt giddy as I looked at the tumbling, foaming waters surrounding us. The raft lifted on the top of a sea, and came down with a fearful crash on a rock; and I felt myself torn from the grasp I had of the raft, and carried far away from it. I looked for my companions, and distinguished Halliday struggling near me. Striking out, I caught hold of him and urged him to endeavour to reach the shore, which appeared at no great distance before us. I then shouted to the rest of my companions, and was thankful to hear Boxall’s voice.“Strike out ahead; we have not far to swim,” he answered, and presently he was close up to us. Neither Ben nor José, however, replied to our shouts; but self-preservation compelled us to try and make the best of our way to the shore, without attempting to look for them.We had not struck out far when I felt my feet touch something. For an instant the horrid thought occurred to me that it might be a shark; but I retained my presence of mind,—and directly afterwards, greatly to my astonishment, I felt my feet touching the ground. I told my companions; and soon we all found ourselves standing, with the water scarcely up to our armpits. Still, though we distinctly saw the shore, it appeared to be a long way off. We now stopped to look around us. Not far-off, on one side, rose a rock to a considerable height, as it seemed, above the water. Believing that we were on a sand-bank, and that we might possibly have to swim a considerable distance, we agreed to make for the rock and rest on it till daylight. Holding each other’s hands, we accordingly waded on, when suddenly we found that we had reached the rock,—on which we without difficulty climbed. The upper part of it, which was much lower than we expected, was perfectly dry; showing that the sea, in moderate weather, did not break over it. Boxall was of opinion that we had struck on a reef which extended parallel with the coast, and broke the force of the waves, and that we were in an intervening lagoon,—so that should it be now low water, which he thought probable, we could have no difficulty in reaching the shore.We again shouted to Ben and José, but no reply came; and fearing that they must have been lost, we gave up calling to them and sat down.The wind fell soon afterwards, and wet through as we were, by sheltering ourselves in a crevice of the rock we did not suffer much from the cold. After waiting for some time, we found that the tide was ebbing.“If we wait till the morning we shall have high-water again; and in my opinion we shall be wise to try and get on shore at once,” said Boxall.Halliday and I agreed with him; for, our strength being restored, we were anxious to find ourselves safe on dry ground. We could not, however, fail to grieve for the loss of Ben, who had been so faithful to us; and also for his companion, José, who seemed a truly honest fellow.“Now,” said Boxall, “let us start.”“We are ready,” answered Halliday; and he and I following Boxall’s example by slipping off the rock, found ourselves in water scarcely up to our middle and once more began to wade towards the shore.

I was aroused by a cry from one of my companions; and, sitting up, I saw a small raft with four men on it approaching from the direction of the large one. I at once knew that it must have been formed by them during the night, for the purpose of trying to overtake us. The men were urging it on with frantic efforts, evidently resolved to board us; so we got out our oars, and began to row away to keep ahead of them. Day was just breaking. They probably had wished to surprise us during the darkness of night, but had been unable to finish their raft in time. We were, it must be understood, to the eastward of them, and a somewhat stiffish breeze had just got up, blowing from off the shore, which, although the water remained pretty calm, impeded our progress,—for our raft, though strongly put together, and able to contend with a heavy sea, was deep in the water, and could not be impelled by rowing at much speed. If overtaken, we must expect, we knew, a fearful struggle; for though we outnumbered those who were approaching, four desperate men, all armed, might overpower us, as we possessed no missiles, not even a boarding-pike or boat-hook with which to drive them off—nor could we prevent them from getting alongside, or commencing the fight till their feet were actually on our raft.

On they came, uttering fearful oaths. “They have probably attacked the spirit-cask, and in their drunken fury are indifferent to consequences,” observed Boxall. “It will be madness to show them the slightest mercy if they get up with us.”

While we rowed away with all our might, I could not help frequently turning my head to watch their progress. They had, I should have said, stepped a mast on their raft, but had no sail; indeed, they could not have used it had they possessed one. This was another sign of the haste in which they must have embarked. Their raft was also, it was evident, carelessly put together; and as it drew nearer we saw that the men could with difficulty keep their feet on it—for the wind by this time having caused the sea to get up slightly, it rocked from side to side.

They were within half a cable’s length of us, when the feet of one of the men slipped, and overboard he fell. His companions, not seeing him, continued to row on. He shrieked to them to stop; the man next to him was stooping down, holding out his hands to haul him in, when suddenly he too was drawn into the water. Piercing cries sounded in our ears. “See, see,” exclaimed Ben; “the sharks have got them!” In an instant they had disappeared, while their companions looked on horror-struck. The next moment a huge shark rose to the surface. One of the men struck it with his oar, which was immediately torn from his grasp; and directly afterwards another shark darted at him. He seized his axe, and, holding on to the mast, attempted to defend himself, while the remaining man continued to row as desperately as before. We would gladly even then have saved the wretched men, but we were unable to do anything to help them. There must have been half-a-dozen sharks or more surrounding the raft, one after the other attacking the frail structure, and threatening every instant to capsize it. In vain the man on the fore-part of the raft attempted to turn it round; again and again the savage creatures assailed it; and at length one, more ferocious than its companions, threw itself upon the raft, and over it went—the two unhappy beings instantly becoming the prey of the monsters.

We turned our eyes away from the sight, not without a dread that we might ere long be attacked in the same way. We had, however, the advantage of a strong raft, considerably higher out of the water than the other; and thus we had less reason to fear that the sharks would succeed in upsetting it.

“It serves the fellows right,” observed Ben; “though, villains as they were, I could have wished them a better fate.”

Wearied with our exertions, and as there was no immediate necessity for rowing—seeing we could not hope to reach the shore until a breeze got up in our favour—we put in our oars to rest.

“Of course, Mr Boxall, you will take command of the raft,” said Ben, touching his hat; “and maybe you will think fit to pipe to breakfast, as, I dare say, Mr Blore and Mr Halliday are getting hungry again.”

“That I will, very gladly,” said Boxall; “and I will try, at all events, to do my best for all hands.”

“Hungry! I should think I am,” exclaimed Halliday.

We had some more fish, with some biscuit,—which, though soaked in salt water, afforded nourishment. The fish we could eat raw better than some salt pork which Ben told me he had on board. Although our food was not palatable, we had not much apprehension of starving. We were chiefly anxious about water, of which our supply was very small; and we could not help being struck by Ben’s fidelity in coming to look for us, knowing, as he must, that we should consume so much of the precious liquid, which was little more than sufficient for himself and his companion.

The day wore on, and still no breeze got up. “I wish that we had had an oar apiece, as we might then have had better hopes of making progress with the raft towards the shore,” I observed. Halliday, however, declared that he thought we were pretty well off as we were,—as it would be a pity to exert ourselves, and to find that after all it was of no use; for a strong breeze from the shore would send us back in an hour the distance we had made good during a day’s labour.

“Still, if every day we make some progress, when the breeze does come from the westward we shall be so much nearer the shore,” observed Boxall. “Therefore we ought, while we have strength, to do our best to urge on our raft.”

Though we were all agreed as to the wisdom of this, yet the sun came down with such strength on our heads that we had little inclination to exert ourselves. We had also hopes that, when the breeze did get up, a sail might come near us. This, perhaps, made us exert ourselves less than we should otherwise have done.

The large raft, I should have said, was still in sight; and, looking through my telescope, I could see the people moving about on it,—though, as far as I could judge, there were fewer than there had been when we left it. What had become of the others? Too probably many had been killed by the ruffianly mutineers; and some, having succumbed to hunger and thirst, had been thrown overboard.

As the day wore on, we could not help acknowledging that we felt weaker than we had been, while a strong inclination to sleep overpowered us. So, while we waited anxiously for a breeze, we spent some hours sleeping under the sail,—persuading ourselves that we should be better able to row during the cool hours of night, when we determined to set manfully to work.

I may venture to say, though I have not before taken notice of it, that a feeling of compassion made us unwilling to desert altogether the unfortunate people still on the raft until, for our own safety, we were compelled to do so. Before long, it was but too probable, their numbers would be greatly diminished. Already six of the mutineers had lost their lives, and their fate would, we hoped, be a warning to the others; perhaps, too, the better disposed people might gain the upper hand.

“Whether we can venture to take them off now, is a question,” observed Boxall; “but we may possibly be able to reach the shore and gain assistance for them: and it would certainly tend to prevent them giving way to despair, could we, before we leave the neighbourhood, tell them of our intentions.”

Halliday and I acquiesced in this; Ben was doubtful.

“After the spirit they have shown, I am afraid it would be of no use, sir,” he observed. “They are not to be dealt with like Englishmen; and if we go near them, they will only try to get hold of our raft. I will ask José what he thinks.”

The Spaniard shook his head. “They will not believe us, señor,” he answered. “Our officers having deserted them, they will not believe that a party of foreigners can intend to treat them with better faith. As they have killed my poor brother, one of the best of men, so they will try to kill us.”

I could not help thinking that there was much force in what José said; still, until a breeze should get up, we agreed to remain where we were.

Another day came to a close. Occasionally we could see the triangular fins of sharks gliding round the raft, their wicked eyes turned up towards us; but they made no attempt to attack us. After supper we again held a discussion as to what was best to be done. At last compassion gained the day, and we agreed to approach the large raft sufficiently near to hail the people, and to tell them that we would, if possible, send them assistance.

“You will do so at great risk,” said José. “I warn you of that; but, at the same time, I will not be the one to oppose your kind intentions towards my countrymen.”

We accordingly took our oars and began slowly to approach the large raft. As we drew near, we could hear the voices of the people on it; some shouting in hoarse tones, others shrieking and crying out, as if imploring mercy.

“It is useless to go on, señors,” said José. “They will not listen to reason.”

Still, impelled by a feeling superadded to that of the compassion which chiefly influenced us, and for which I can scarcely now account,—resembling that which is said to induce birds or other animals to hurry forward into the open mouth of the serpent,—we continued to row towards the fatal raft. Perhaps, too, Boxall, who was the person to order us to stop, still hoped that our presence, and the promise we were about to give, might induce the people to remain quiet till assistance could reach them.

At length we got near enough to hail; but it was some time before we could make our voices heard, or the uproar ceased. I desired José to tell them what we intended doing.

“Come nearer, come nearer,” was the answer. “Give us a little water and a little food; and if you will take two of our number,—only two,—who are suffering greatly, it will show us that you are in earnest, and that you wish to save our lives.”

“Don’t trust them, don’t trust them, señor,” cried José, in an agony of fear. “They don’t mean what they say. If once we get within their power, they will detain us.”

I told Boxall what José said. He still hesitated, however. Just then I felt the wind fan my cheek.

“Here comes a breeze from the westward,” shouted Ben.

“We have given our message,” I observed to Boxall; “and I cannot help thinking that José is right. We must not forget the sample they have given us of their feelings.”

“I am afraid it must be so,” said Boxall with a sigh. “For our own safety, we must make for the shore without further delay. Hoist the sail, Ben. I will take the steering-oar; José can manage the bow oar; and you, Halliday, and Charlie can tend the halyards and sheet.”

We assisted Ben to hoist the sail, which was somewhat large for the raft, except under a very light wind. Before the sail was set, however, the breeze had greatly increased, and scarcely had we brought the sheet aft when over went the mast, carried off at the heel. We of course set to work to get in the sail, while Ben, with an axe, endeavoured to cut out the broken heel from the step, in which he had fixed it. This took some time, as the raft was rocking about far more than it had hitherto done, and he could not work quickly in the darkness. Having at length succeeded, he had next to chop the heel of the mast to the proper size to fit the step. He was working away as rapidly as possible, and we were stooping down to assist him, when José shouted out, “They are coming, they are coming!” Looking round, we observed that the sail of the big raft was hoisted, and that she was coming towards us faster than we should have supposed it was possible for her to move. In little more than a minute she might be up with us; while the wild shouts and execrations of the miscreants who were on the raft rang in our ears, and showed us what he had to expect from them.

Ben worked away as composedly but as rapidly as he could, while we were engaged in taking a reef in the sail.

“It’s done,” cried Ben at last; and lifting the mast, we found, to our great satisfaction, that the heel fitted into the step. We immediately set up four stays.

“Be smart now,” cried Boxall. “Hoist away with the sail.”

He had good reason to give the order, for, as we looked round, we saw the head of the big raft with several people on it, some rowing to give it more impetus, while one stood with a boat-hook ready to catch hold of us. In another instant the fellow might have hooked on, or have run the point of it into the back of Boxall, who had again resumed the steering-oar; but, hoisting away with all our might, we got the sail up, and while Ben was making fast the halyards Halliday and I carried the sheet aft.

Over the now foaming sea we flew, while the big raft followed close astern,—those on it uttering the most fearful oaths and execrations as they found themselves disappointed in their project of seizing us. Our light raft went over the water far more rapidly than theirs, and we soon distanced them; but for long their shrieks and cries sounded in our ears.

“I thought, sir, that they intended treachery,” observed José to me; “and we may be thankful that we escaped them.” I agreed with him; at the same time, having escaped, we had the satisfactory reflection that we would have done our best to have rendered them assistance, and that we could not blame ourselves for deserting our fellow-creatures. What would now be their fate, it was not difficult to say. They might possibly reach the shore; but the large raft, hurriedly put together, was but ill calculated to resist the now fast rising sea, and we could not but fear that many of the unfortunate wretches would speedily be washed off it. Our little raft was tolerably strong, but the way the pieces of which it was constructed worked, gave us a notion what would be the fate of theirs.

We were tossed fearfully about, and had to run now to one side, now to the other, to balance it as it was lifted by the seas. Boxall kept his seat on a cask, endeavouring to steer it, but he had at length to call me to his assistance, while Ben helped José. On and on we flew. As the clouds gathered in the sky the night grew darker and darker, and we soon lost sight of the large raft, while the voices of those on it no longer reached our ears. I asked Boxall what he thought would happen to the miserable people.

“Too probably they have been washed off theraft, or it has been capsized, by this time,” he answered. “I confess, I do not like to think of what must have been their fate.”

Our thoughts were now turned towards what might happen to ourselves. We had no means of judging how far off we were from the coast, but I calculated that, as we had not seen it, we could not be within fifteen miles or so of it—an opinion which I expressed to Boxall.

“You forget that, low down as we are in the water, our horizon is very circumscribed; while for miles together, on this part of the African coast, the sandy shore rises but a few feet above the level of the sea,” he answered. “It may therefore be much nearer, than we suppose. We must, at all events, keep a good look-out; although, with the wind blowing strong, and running as we are directly before it, we shall have no choice where to land, and shall have to make good our footing on the dry land as best we can.”

We were silent for some time; indeed, we had enough to do to steer the raft.

“Keep a bright look-out, Ben,” cried Boxall. “Do you see anything of the land?”

“No, sir,” answered Ben, somewhat surprised; for he supposed, as I had done, that we were still a long way off. “I don’t expect to see it for the next three or four hours.”

“We may reach it sooner than you fancy,” said Boxall.

“Very glad to hear that, sir,” answered Ben; “for though I am very well satisfied with this craft of ours, I would sooner feel my feet on dry land than aboard of her, if it should come on to blow much harder than it does now.”

I suspect we all felt as Ben did. The sea was fast rising, and as the foaming crests of the tumbling waves came hissing over the raft, we had to hold on tightly to avoid being carried away. But our chief anxiety was about our mast. Should that give way, the raft would be left tossing helplessly amid the seas, and in all probability be washed off. We had, however, stayed it up securely, and we could only hope that it would hold.

I now proposed taking another reef in the sail.

“No, we will let it stand,” said Boxall; “we shall only run a greater risk than we do now of being pooped, should we shorten sail, and if the wind does not increase we shall easily carry it; indeed, by the look of the sky, I have hopes that the weather will not grow worse,—and perhaps by the morning we shall have it calm again.”

“We may then congratulate ourselves on having had the strong breeze which is sending us along so famously,” observed Halliday.

“We shall have reason to be thankful to Him who has caused the westerly wind to blow,” answered Boxall. “It might have come from the eastward, and we should have been driven still further off the coast—when, if not swamped, we would in all probability die of starvation, did we fail to fall in with a passing vessel.”

Fully two hours passed by, and still Ben’s sharp eyes could not detect the land. We had been steering by the stars, and though they had for some time been obscured, we had reason to believe that the wind had not changed, and therefore, being directly before it, that we had kept the same course.

I asked Boxall how fast he thought we were going through the water.

“Considering the breeze we have got, I should say five or six knots an hour,” he answered.

“Beg pardon, sir,” said Ben, who overheard him; “you forget, I dare say, that this raft does not sail like a boat. I suspect that we don’t get much more than three or four knots out of her.”

“I believe you are right, Ben,” answered Boxall. “In that case, it will take us an hour or so more than I calculated on to gain the shore. However, it may be to our advantage, for it will be far safer to land when it is calm than with so strong a breeze as is now blowing. At all events, unless the wind changes, we shall reach the shore at last.”

Another hour went by. According to Boxall’s predictions, the weather was improving. The dark clouds which had obscured the sky cleared away, and the stars shone forth brightly as before; still the wind did not decrease, and the seas kept tumbling, foaming, and hissing around us as before. More than once we looked astern, thinking it possible that the large raft might be again within sight; but no sign of her could be seen. By degrees we had got accustomed to the tossing and the occasional breaking of the seas over us, and even had we expected to perform a much longer voyage we should not have complained; indeed, it now seems surprising to me how little concerned we all appeared to be.

We were running much as we had been doing for the last three hours, when Ben exclaimed, “Land! land!”—and directly afterwards, “Breakers ahead!”

We all looked out under the sail at what appeared to be the dark outline of a hilly country,—it seemed strange that we had not seen it before,—while the intervening line of white foaming breakers stretched out parallel with the coast, and threatened our destruction before we could reach it.

“Do you see any opening through which we may pass, Ben?” asked Boxall.

“No, sir; none at all,” answered Ben. “All we can do is to hold fast to the raft, and pray that we may be earned through the breakers.”

“Had we not better lower the sail, then, and keep the raft off till daylight?” I asked.

“We may lower the sail; but all the strength we possess could not keep us out of the breakers,” answered Boxall. “We had better do as Ben suggests—stand on, and hope to be carried safe through them. Hold fast, all of you!” cried Boxall; “here we are close upon them.”

As he spoke, we saw the waters hissing and foaming and dancing up to a prodigious height, as it appeared, directly before us, while the land rose still more distinctly behind them. The next instant we were in their midst.

“Hold fast! hold fast!” again shouted Boxall, “and we shall be carried safely through.”

The breakers did not appear so high as they had done a little way off, and we all had hopes that Boxall’s predictions would prove correct. But we had not much time for thinking; my head whirled and I felt giddy as I looked at the tumbling, foaming waters surrounding us. The raft lifted on the top of a sea, and came down with a fearful crash on a rock; and I felt myself torn from the grasp I had of the raft, and carried far away from it. I looked for my companions, and distinguished Halliday struggling near me. Striking out, I caught hold of him and urged him to endeavour to reach the shore, which appeared at no great distance before us. I then shouted to the rest of my companions, and was thankful to hear Boxall’s voice.

“Strike out ahead; we have not far to swim,” he answered, and presently he was close up to us. Neither Ben nor José, however, replied to our shouts; but self-preservation compelled us to try and make the best of our way to the shore, without attempting to look for them.

We had not struck out far when I felt my feet touch something. For an instant the horrid thought occurred to me that it might be a shark; but I retained my presence of mind,—and directly afterwards, greatly to my astonishment, I felt my feet touching the ground. I told my companions; and soon we all found ourselves standing, with the water scarcely up to our armpits. Still, though we distinctly saw the shore, it appeared to be a long way off. We now stopped to look around us. Not far-off, on one side, rose a rock to a considerable height, as it seemed, above the water. Believing that we were on a sand-bank, and that we might possibly have to swim a considerable distance, we agreed to make for the rock and rest on it till daylight. Holding each other’s hands, we accordingly waded on, when suddenly we found that we had reached the rock,—on which we without difficulty climbed. The upper part of it, which was much lower than we expected, was perfectly dry; showing that the sea, in moderate weather, did not break over it. Boxall was of opinion that we had struck on a reef which extended parallel with the coast, and broke the force of the waves, and that we were in an intervening lagoon,—so that should it be now low water, which he thought probable, we could have no difficulty in reaching the shore.

We again shouted to Ben and José, but no reply came; and fearing that they must have been lost, we gave up calling to them and sat down.

The wind fell soon afterwards, and wet through as we were, by sheltering ourselves in a crevice of the rock we did not suffer much from the cold. After waiting for some time, we found that the tide was ebbing.

“If we wait till the morning we shall have high-water again; and in my opinion we shall be wise to try and get on shore at once,” said Boxall.

Halliday and I agreed with him; for, our strength being restored, we were anxious to find ourselves safe on dry ground. We could not, however, fail to grieve for the loss of Ben, who had been so faithful to us; and also for his companion, José, who seemed a truly honest fellow.

“Now,” said Boxall, “let us start.”

“We are ready,” answered Halliday; and he and I following Boxall’s example by slipping off the rock, found ourselves in water scarcely up to our middle and once more began to wade towards the shore.

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