top of a sea; not a
sign of her could we perceive. Still we trusted that our friends might
have been preserved. That day the gale blew as furiously as before; but
in the evening it moderated, though the sky was covered with clouds, and
we knew not whither we were drifting. For several days we drifted on,
ignorant of our position. Every morning, when daylight returned, we
looked out eagerly for our friends, but we never saw them again. We
live in hope that they may have been preserved. All is for the best.

"We thought that when the gale abated, and the sea grew calm, and the
sun came out, our sufferings would have an end; but they only then
began. Our stock of water was becoming less and less. Many of our
provisions had been so damaged by the sea, that they quickly decayed.
The sea became calm as the lagoon inside a coral isle; the sun burst
forth with intense heat; our thirst grew excessive. Our island was
plentifully supplied with water, and we had always been accustomed to an
abundance; yet now we dared not drink more than the shell of a small nut
could hold at a time. Carefully we husbanded the precious fluid; we had
learned to know its value. At last the time came when not a drop
remained. Every calabash was examined over and over again--the last
drop was drained out. We sat down, and looked mournfully at each other.
Our thirst increased. We dipped our heads in salt water--we
continually sprinkled each other over with it; but that did not convey
coolness to our parched tongues. `We must die,' exclaimed some one.
`No, no,' answered one of our missionary brethren; `we will pray without
ceasing--we will trust in God. He will send us relief when we least
expect it.' That very evening a flight of sea-fowl flew close to the
canoe. We were able to knock over several. Their blood assisted to
quench our thirst; their flesh, too, revived our strength. The next day
several fish were caught; but it was not food we wanted. `Water! water!
water!' was the cry from old and young alike. Still a day passed away--
there was no sign of land--no sign of rain. The next day came;
intolerable was the thirst we endured by noon. In vain we strained our
eyes through the hot, quivering atmosphere; the sky was blue and pure as
ever; not a speck could we discern in the horizon. We had hoped that we
might reach the group of islands to which we had been bound; we
accordingly kept, as we believed, a direct course for it. A