t experienced
of the party, kept his hand upon the tiller; but there was a sullen
hopelessness in his air, a nerveless dejection in the pose of his limbs,
which showed that he had neither strength nor inclination to fight much
longer against fate.

It was at nine o'clock on the fifth day of their perilous voyage, that
the steersman lifted up his eyes, and saw a faint trail of smoke on the
horizon. He uttered a hoarse, inarticulate cry, and rose up, pointing
with one shaking finger to the distant sign. "A steamer!" He could say
nothing more, but the word was enough. It called back life even to the
dull eyes of the man who had lain down to die. And he who was sitting
with his head bowed wearily upon his knees, looked up with a quick,
sudden flicker of hope which seemed likely enough to be extinguished as
soon as it was evident.

For it was probable that the steamer would merely cross the line of
vision and disappear, without approaching them near enough to be of any
use. Eagerly they watched. They strained their eyes to see it: they
spent their strength in rigging up a tattered garment or two to serve as
a signal of distress. Then, they waited through hours of sickening,
terrible suspense. And the steamer loomed into sight: nearer it came and
nearer. They were upon its track: surely succour was nigh at hand.

And succour came. The great vessel slackened its pace: it came to a
standstill and waited, heaving to and fro upon the waters, as if it were
a live thing with a beating and compassionate heart. The two men in the
boat, standing up and faintly endeavouring to raise their voices, saw
that a great crowd of heads was turned towards them from the sides of
the vessel, that a boat was lowered and pushed off. The plashing of
oars, the sound of a cheer, came to the ears of the seafarers. The old
sailor muttered something that sounded like "Thank God!" and his
companion burst into tears, but the man at the bottom of the boat lay
still: they had not been able to make him hear or understand. The
officer in the boat from the steamer stood up as it approached, and to
him the old man addressed himself as soon as he could speak.

"We're the second mate and bo'sun of the _Falcon_, sir, and one steerage
passenger. Destroyed by fire five days ago; and we've been in this here
cockle-shell ever since." But his voice was so husky and dry that he was
almost unintelligible. "Mates, for the love of Heaven, give us summat to
drink," cried