ere
small indeed. The wreck still hung together, but the wind appeared to
be again getting up; indeed, there was so much sea, that the captain was
afraid of sending back the boats. Anxiously that night passed away, but
our courage was kept up by the captain's cheerful and manly voice.

"Trust in God, friends," he continued to say, "that is the best advice I
can give you. As I have said before, I will do my best, and I hope all
you will do your best, and let us never despair." Next morning, in
spite of the heavy sea running, the mates pushed off in the boats in the
hopes of obtaining further supplies from the wreck. Dangerous as was
the undertaking, the condition of our party on the sand-bank was not
less perilous, for should the boats be lost, our fate, in all human
probability, would be sealed. We watched them anxiously. Now they
appeared on the crest of a sea, now they were hidden by the foaming
breakers. At length they were altogether lost to sight from the
sand-bank. We stood, our hands on each others' shoulders, our necks
stretched out, eagerly watching for their return. Now a dark object was
seen. We thought it was one of the boats. No, it was a piece of the
wreck. Another and another piece appeared. Some drove on to the beach,
and we hurried down to secure them. At length I saw the lifeboat
drawing near. Alas! was the other lost? "See! see! she is astern of
her!" cried someone. On they both came, and we hurried down to welcome
them. Both of them came laden. In the jolly-boat were some sails, and
several casks of provisions, and in the lifeboat, among other things, a
small keg of lime-juice. The surgeon spied it out, and literally
shouted for joy. "It may be the saving of our lives," he exclaimed;
"and will at all events keep scurvy at bay." That night we were able to
erect a tent for the poor women and children, as also for some of the
men passengers, and two or three of the seamen and boys who were
suffering from exposure. Still my friend the surgeon looked grave.

"Jennings," he said to me, as we were taking a turn together, "there is
one thing I dread more than all others--the want of water. What we have
will go a very, very short way, and then--! My lad, do you know what it
is to die of thirst--the throat becoming drier and drier, the tongue
swelling, and getting as hard as shoe-leather, and blacker and blacker,
the sight growing dim, the voice failing?"

"A fearful picture!" I sa