them. Weakness prevented them, as well as despondency. For there
was no object in continuing the toil; no land in sight, and no knowledge
of any being near. Should a ship chance to come their way, they were as
likely to be in her track lying at rest, as if engaged in laboriously
rowing. They permitted the oars, therefore, to remain motionless
between the thole pins, themselves sitting listlessly on the seats, most
of them with their heads bent despairingly downward. The Malay alone
kept his shining black eyes on the alert, as if despair had not yet
prostrated him.

The long sultry day that saw the last of their two sailor comrades, at
length came to a close, without any change in their melancholy
situation. The fierce hot sun went down into the bosom of the sea, and
was followed by the short tropic twilight. As the shades of night
closed over them, the father, kneeling beside his children, sent up a
prayer to Him who still held their lives in His hand; while Murtagh said
the Amen; and the dark-skinned Malay, who was a Mohammedan, muttered a
similar petition to Allah. It had been their custom every night and
morning, since parting from the foundered ship, and during all their
long-protracted perils in the pinnace.

Perhaps that evening's vesper was more fervent than those preceding it;
for they felt they could not last much longer, and that all of them were
slowly, surely dying.

This night, a thing something unusual, the sky became obscured by
clouds. It might be a good omen, or a bad one. If a storm, their frail
boat would run a terrible risk of being swamped; but if rain should
accompany it, there might be a chance of collecting a little water upon
a tarpaulin that lay at the bottom.

As it turned out, no rain fell, though there arose what might be called
a storm. The breeze, springing up at an early hour of the day,
commenced increasing after sunset.

It was the first of any consequence they had encountered since taking to
the boat; and it blew right in the direction whither they intended
steering.

With the freshening of the wind, as it came cool upon his brow, the
castaway captain seemed to become inspired with a slight hope. It was
the same with Murtagh and the Malay.

"If we only had a sail," muttered the captain, with a sigh.

"Sail, cappen--lookee talpolin!" said Saloo, speaking in "pigeon
English," and pointing to the tarpaulin in the bottom of the boat. "Why
no him makee sail?"

"Yis,