, two fearful ideas occurred to me: one,
that I might be swimming from the land, the other, that at any moment a
shark might seize me and carry me to the depths below. Had I allowed my
mind to dwell on these ideas, I should speedily have lost courage, but
instead I had recourse to the only means by which, under similar trials
and dangers, a man can hope to be supported. I turned my thoughts
upwards, and prayed earnestly for protection and deliverance.

I was striking out gently with my feet to keep myself moving through the
water when my head struck something floating on the surface. I turned
round, and found that it was one of the long bamboo buoys employed by
the native fishermen on the coast to mark where their nets, or fish
traps, are placed. They are very long and buoyant, and capable of
supporting more than one man with ease. I threw my arms over the one I
had found, and was grateful that I had thus found an object by means of
which my life might possibly be preserved.

I looked round me; the prahus and brig were still to be seen, but after
watching them for some time, they appeared to be drifting away with the
faint land breeze from the spot where I lay. Thus was the danger of
being seen by them at daylight lessened. Hitherto I had feared, among
other things, should I be unable to swim on shore, that when the pirates
discovered me in the morning they would send a boat and give me a
quieting knock on the head. Still my position was a very dreadful one.
Any moment a passing shark might seize hold of me; that I escaped was
owing, I think, humanly speaking, to my having on dark clothes, and my
having kept constantly splashing with my legs. I was afraid of resting,
also, lest I should lose consciousness, and, letting go my hold of the
bamboo, be swept away by the tide.

At length, when my legs became weary of moving about, I thought that I
would try the effect of my voice in keeping the sharks at a distance. I
first ascertained that the pirate prahus had drifted to such a distance
that I was not likely to be heard by them, then I began shouting away at
the top of my voice.

What was my surprise, as soon as I stopped, to hear an answer! For a
moment I fancied that it must be some mockery of my imagination; then
again I heard the voice say, "What, Braithwaite! is that you?"

It must be, I knew, my friend Van Deck who spoke, yet the voice sounded
hollow and strange, very unlike his.

I can scarcely descr