e sight of fresh water, some of
the men dropped their oars, threw themselves into the sea when out of
their depth--others when the water was above their waists--yet they did
not arrive so soon as those who waited till the boat struck the beach
and jumped out upon dry land. And then they threw themselves into the
rivulet, which coursed over the shingle, about five or six inches in
depth allowing the refreshing stream to pour into their mouths till they
could receive no more, immersing their hot hands, and rolling in it with
delight.

Despots and fanatics have exerted their ingenuity to invent torments for
their victims--how useless--the rack, the boot, tire,--all that they
have imagined are not to be compared to the torture of extreme thirst.
In the extremity of agony the sufferers cry for water, and it is not
refused: they might have spared themselves their refined ingenuity of
torment, and the disgusting exhibition of it, had they only confined the
prisoner in his cell, and refused him _water_.

As soon as they satisfied the most pressing of all wants, they rose
dripping from the stream, and walked up to the houses of the factory;
the inhabitants of which, perceiving that boats had landed when there
was no vessel in the bay, naturally concluded that some disaster had
happened, and were walking down to meet them. Their tragical history
was soon told. The thirty-six men that stood before them were all that
were left of nearly three hundred souls embarked, and they had been more
than two days without food. At this intimation no further questions
were asked by the considerate settlers, until the hunger of the
sufferers had been appeased when the narrative of their sufferings was
fully detailed by Philip and Krantz.

"I have an idea that I have seen you before," observed one of the
settlers. "Did you come on shore when the fleet anchored?"

"I did not," replied Philip; "but I have been here."

"I recollect now," replied the man; "you were the only survivor of the
Ter Schilling, which was lost in False Bay."

"Not the only survivor," replied Philip; "I thought so myself; but I
afterwards met the pilot, a one-eyed man, of the name of Schriften, who
was my shipmate: he must have arrived here after me. You saw him, of
course?"

"No, I did not. No one belonging to the Ter Schilling ever came here
after you; for I have been a settler here ever since, and it is not
likely that I should forget such a circumstance."