Although the water was rushing into the vessel with a rapidity which gave no hope of her floating much longer, the wind was at the same time going down.  There was thus some prospect of their lives being preserved, uncertain though they felt it must be.  Every now and then, either Jack or Grimshaw went below to ascertain the progress the water was making.  At length Grim came hurrying up.

“No time to lose, sir; I am very sure of that!” he shouted out.  “If we don’t look sharp, the brig will be sinking under us!”

“Haul up the raft, then,” said Mr Collinson.  “The boys must go first on it.”

It was hauled up under the stern, and Bill and Tommy lowered themselves down; Grimshaw followed, and Mr Collinson and Jack then lowered down the various articles they had collected to take with them, which Grim and the boys secured as well as they could.  Mr Collinson told Jack to descend, and, casting an eye round, he saw that nothing was left behind.  He himself then slid down upon the raft, and was caught by his companions.  He had scarcely calculated how weak he was; and, had it not been for the men, he would have fallen into the water.  His eye had been on the stern of the vessel.  He saw it give a peculiar movement, lifting upwards.

“Cut!  Cut!” he shouted.

Jack was just in time to cut the tow-rope, and with a long pole to shove off, before, the vessel’s stern lifting high in the air, she went down bows foremost.  Then, getting out the paddles, they paddled away quickly to avoid being drawn down in the vortex.

“Well, we are unlucky!” cried old Grim, as he saw the vessel go down.

“I think rather we are very fortunate,” said Bill.  “Suppose we had not had the raft, where should we be now?  We ought to thank Him who has preserved us, and not to cry out that we are unlucky.”

Bill had always some answer to make to old Grim’s growls.

“You are right, boy,” said Mr Collinson.  “I calculate that we are not more than fifty miles from the American coast, if so much; and if the wind comes from the north, as I think it is likely to do, we shall be able to reach it in a couple of days or so:  besides which, we are nearly certain to fall in with some vessel before long, even if we cannot reach the shore.”

Though the lieutenant made these remarks, he could not help confessing to himself that there were still many dangers to be encountered.  The wind having gone down sufficiently, they were able to hoist their sail, and to steer towards the nearest point of the American coast, which lay about south-west from them.

The lieutenant felt their condition even more than his companions.  He had been indulging in the hope of sighting Jamaica in the course of a few days:  and now he could not tell when he might get back to that island.  He calculated, too, that the Lilly would have returned there, and that his friends would have become very anxious at not seeing him.  He felt far more for Ellen Lydall than for himself.

For some time the raft glided on, but the wind was gradually falling, and before the sun went down there was again a perfect calm.  Although it could be urged on by paddles, yet, weak and fatigued as all hands were, but slow progress could be made in that way, while neither water nor provisions would hold out till they could reach the land.  The sea went down with the wind, and the raft became now perfectly tranquil, enabling those on it to go to sleep without fear of being washed off.  One at a time only remained awake to keep watch, though there was not much object in doing so, as, during the calm, no vessel could come near them.  At length the sun again rose and glided through the blue sky, in which not a cloud appeared to give indication of a change of weather.  His rays beat down on the heads of the seamen on the raft, making them long for a shady place.

Hour after hour the calm continued, and there they floated in the centre, as it were, of a vast mirror, covered by a blue canopy.  Very little was said now by any of the party.  Even Bill could scarcely sing a verse of a song, though he made several attempts, to keep up his own spirits and those of his companions.  Hour after hour passed by; the night again came.  Often, during the period of darkness, those on the raft thought they saw vessels approaching, but as they drew near they vanished into thin air.  Sometimes, too, they declared they heard voices shouting to them.  Even Mr Collinson could scarcely persuade himself, at times, when he heard his companions talking of the vessels drawing near, that he did not also see them.  They seldom moved, except to hand the cup of precious water round one to the other, that they might moisten their lips.  Oh, how precious that water was now becoming!

The last drop was at length exhausted, and for some time they had not taken sufficient to quench their thirst.  That thirst increased till it became almost intolerable.  What would they not have given for one single bottle-full?  Mr Collinson charged them on no account to be tempted to drink the salt water.

“Madness and death will be the consequence, if you do,” he observed.

Still, with difficulty they could refrain from taking the tempting fluid on which they floated.  As morning approached, Bill, who was standing up, declared that he felt a light breeze on his cheeks.  It lasted for a short time again.  Then again it came, and, as the sun rose, it could be seen playing, here and there, over the water.

“And see!  See!  There comes a sail!” cried Jack.

He pointed to the westward.  There, just rising above the horizon, were seen the topgallant sails of a ship.  How eagerly did they watch her!  She was standing towards them; there was no doubt about that.  On she came, but the wind was light, and she advanced but slowly.  They had but a few damaged biscuits and onions remaining.  Should she not perceive them, starvation might be their fate.  The time went by.  It had never appeared to pass so slowly.  Still she was getting nearer.  Her topsails gradually rose above the water; then her courses were seen; and, finally, the hull itself rose in sight.

During this time, the sun was rising in the heavens, and struck down upon their heads with terrific fury, increasing the fearful thirst from which they were suffering.  It increased their longing for her approach.  She seemed to come on very, very slowly; indeed, sometimes they felt as if they could scarcely hold out till she could get up to them.

“I don’t think, after all, she will pass near enough to see us,” observed old Grim.

They watched her again for some time.

“Yes!  Yes!  She’s altering her course.  She is steering directly for us now!” exclaimed Jack.  “We’re seen!  We’re seen!” he and Bill shouted in chorus.

Mr Collinson had made no remark.  He had been examining the vessel, and felt sure, from her appearance, that she was French.  She was a flush-deck vessel, probably a privateer.  Still their lives might be preserved, as those on board would scarcely have the barbarity to refuse to receive them.  He said nothing, however, to his companions.

On came the vessel.  As she approached, her topsails were clewed up, and a boat was lowered.  The boat approached.  Their wretched appearance, suffering from burning thirst and hunger, might have excited the compassion of even the most hardhearted.  The people in the boat shouted to them.

“They’re Frenchmen!” cried old Grim.  “They’re somewhat better than Spaniards, that’s all I can say in their favour!”

As the boat drew near, the party on the raft pointed to their lips.

“Water!  Water!” they gasped out.

By this time, no one could speak with clearness.  Even Jack Windy, who was the strongest, could scarcely stand upright on the raft.

“Oh!  Pauvres garcons!  Vite!  Vite!”

Mr Collinson understood the words.  It showed him that the men in the boat could feel for their sufferings.  They were soon lifted into it, with the few articles which they had brought with them, and the boat then quickly pulled towards the ship.  They were hoisted on board, for they could not help themselves.  Mr Collinson was allowed to rest on a gun-carriage, near the gangway, while the rest of the party were left standing or leaning against the bulwarks.  Bill and Tommy sunk down from weakness on the deck.  The French seamen, however, immediately brought them up a jug of water, of which they eagerly drank.

“Well, this is sweet and nice!” said Bill, as he took the cup from his mouth.

The water, though not over-cool, greatly revived them all; and the Frenchmen stood by smiling, till they had emptied the contents of the jug.  At length, a tall, stout man, with a very dark complexion, but who, by the uniform he wore, appeared to be an officer, came up to them.

“Who are you?” he demanded in a somewhat rough voice.  “But I need not ask that:  I see, by your dress, that you are of the English marine.  But where did you come from?  How did you get on the raft?”

Mr Collinson briefly replied that they had been wrecked, and finding a brig which had been deserted by her crew, they had got on board her; but she had afterwards sunk, leaving them floating on the raft.

“What vessel was she? Oh yes, I understand,” observed the officer; and then, turning to the men, he asked, “To what ship do you belong?”

“The Lilly, sir,” said Jack, without hesitation.

“The Lilly?  Why, that’s the corvette we fell in with last week, away to the westward.  You said she was wrecked,” he added, turning to Mr Collinson, and speaking in somewhat broken English, though sufficiently clear to make his meaning understood.

“I said that we were wrecked,” replied Mr Collinson.  “I did not say that our own ship was wrecked.”

“In what vessel, then, were you cast away?” asked the officer.

“In a prize we had taken,” answered Mr Collinson.  “We were ordered to bring her round to Jamaica; but, being caught in a hurricane, we were driven on a reef in the neighbourhood of the Tortugas.”

“I thought so!” exclaimed the officer, with an oath.  “She was our consort.  You would have had a harder matter to take us, let me tell you.  However, it’s a satisfaction to find that you lost her.  We heard that she was captured.  However, it’s a good reason why we should treat you as prisoners; as such you must consider yourselves.”

“We must submit, if so you determine it,” said Mr Collinson; “but our case is a hard one.”

“Not harder than that of the poor fellows who lost their vessel, and are now in one of your prisons in Jamaica.”

With this remark, the mulatto officer returned to his companions, to whom he seemed to be imparting the information he had obtained.  At length another officer came up to Mr Collinson, and addressed him in French.

“I am the surgeon of the ship,” he said.  “I see that you are ill, and almost worn out; and, although you are an Englishman and an enemy, you must let me prescribe for you.  Come down, therefore, into my cabin, where you can obtain some rest, which I see you greatly require.”

“I accept your offer gratefully,” answered Mr Collinson; “and I must beg also that you will attend to the wants of my companions.”

“It is right in you, monsieur, to think of your men,” said the surgeon; “and I will gladly do as you wish.  I am afraid that both you and they will be subjected to some unpleasant treatment, for we have some terribly rough people on board, both among the officers and forward.”  He said this in a low voice.  “I will, however, do my best for you.”

The seamen at length made signs to old Grim, and Jack, and the boys, that they might go down below.  Some seamen then spread out four hammocks in the fore part of the ship, and signed to them that they had better lie down and rest themselves a proposal which they willingly accepted.

“I suppose they will give us some food,” said Jack.

“They cannot fancy we can live upon water and air,” observed Bill; “so I dare say, by-and-by, they will.”

“They seem to carry on things in a rum man-of-war fashion,” observed Grimshaw, pointing along the deck.

The larger portion of the crew appeared to be below, and they were all seated about the decks, some with cards, others with dice, so absorbed in their games that they took no notice of the newcomers.  Some few were mending their clothes, or manufacturing various articles; but the greater number of those who were not gambling were talking vehemently, “making all sorts of grimaces,” as Grim observed; now and then touching the hilts of the long knives they wore in their belts, as if they were about to start up and stick them into each other.  Some were laughing, others uttering strange cries; the losers were swearing, and the gainers shouting with glee.  On one side, although there was scarcely room for a tall man to stand upright, a fiddler was playing, with several men dancing round him; while another party were collected round a man who was singing, at the top of his voice, a song which seemed to afford his auditors infinite amusement.  In spite of the strange Babel of sounds, however, the weary seamen and two boys at length fell back and dropped off asleep.