some minutes upon the edge of the reef, at the spot where I had
crawled out, waiting to recover my breath.

I did not maintain this inactive attitude longer than was necessary.
This was not a situation in which to trifle with time; and knowing this,
I got to my feet again to see if anything could be done.

Strange enough, I cast my eyes in the direction whence I had just come
from the boat. It was rather a mechanical glance, and I scarce know why
I should have looked in that particular direction. Perhaps I had some
faint hope that the sunken craft might rise to the surface; and I
believe some such fancy actually did present itself. I was not
permitted to indulge in it, for there was no boat to be seen, nor
anything like one. I saw the oars floating far out, but only the oars;
and for all the service they could do me, they might as well have gone
to the bottom, along with the boat.

I next turned my eyes toward the shore; but nothing was to be seen in
that direction, but the low-lying land upon which the village was
situated. I could not see any people on shore--in fact, I could hardly
distinguish the houses; for, as if to add to the gloom and peril that
surrounded me, the sky had become overcast, and along with the clouds a
fresh breeze had sprung up.

This was raising the water into waves of considerable height, and these
interfered with my view of the beach. Even in bright weather, the
distance itself would have hindered me from distinguishing human forms
on the shore; for from the reef to the nearest suburb of the village, it
was more than three statute miles.

Of course, it would have been of no avail to have cried out for
assistance. Even on the calmest day I could not have been heard, and
fully understanding this, I held my peace.

There was nothing in sight--neither ship, nor sloop, nor schooner, nor
brig--not a boat upon the bay. It was Sunday, and vessels had kept in
port. Fishing boats for the same reason were not abroad, and such
pleasure boats as belonged to our village had all gone in their usual
direction, down the bay, to a celebrated lighthouse there--most likely
the boat of Harry Blew among the rest.

There was no sail in sight, either to the north, the south, the east, or
the west. The bay appeared deserted, and I felt as much alone as if I
had been shut up in my coffin.

I remembered instinctively the dread feeling of loneliness that came
over me. I remember that I sank down upon t