from that fate; but as soon as he has got a little more rest, we must
take a fresh spell at the oars. It 'ud never do to drift back to
_them_. If we do, it an't only him they'll want to eat, but me too,
after what's happened. Blowed if they wouldn't."

The sailor paused a moment, as if reflecting upon the probabilities of
their being pursued.

"Sartin!" he continued, "they could never fetch that catamaran against
the wind; but now that it's turned dead calm, they might clap on wi'
their oars, in the hope of overtakin' us. There's so many of them to
pull, and they've got oars in plenty, they might overhaul us yet."

"O Ben! dear Ben! save me,--save me from the wicked men!"

This came from the lips of the lad, evidently muttered in his sleep.

"Dash my buttons, if he an't dreaming!" said the sailor, turning his
eyes upon the boy, and watching the movements of his lips. "He be
talkin' in his sleep. He thinks they're comin' at him just as they did
last night on the raft! Maybe I ought to rouse him up. If he be a
dreamin' that way he'll be better awake. It's a pity, too, for he an't
had enough sleep."

"Oh! they will kill me and eat me. Oh, oh!"

"No, they won't do neyther,--blow'd if they do. Will'm, little Will'm!
rouse yourself, my lad."

And as he said this he bent down and gave the sleeper a shake.

"O Ben! is it you? Where are they,--those monsters?"

"Miles away, my boy. You be only a dreamin' about 'em. That's why I've
shook you up."

"I'm glad you have waked me. Oh! it was a frightful dream! I thought
they had done it, Ben."

"Done what, Will'm?"

"What they were going to do."

"Dash it, no, lad! they an't ate you yet; nor won't, till they've first
put an end o' me,--that I promise ye."

"Dear Ben," cried the boy, "you are so good,--you've risked your life to
save mine. Oh! how can I ever show you how much I am sensible of your
goodness?"

"Don't talk o' that, little Will'm. Ah! lad, I fear it an't much use to
eyther o' us. But if we must die, anything before a death like that.
I'd rather far that the sharks should get us than to be eat up by one's
own sort.--Ugh! it be horrid to think o't. But come, lad, don't let us
despair. For all so black as things look, let us put our trust in
Providence. We don't know but that His eye may be on us at this minute.
I wish I knew how to pray, but I never was taught that ere. Can you
pray, little Will'm?"

"I can repeat the Lord's Pray