On deck Hughes and the missionary were working with the men, encouraging
them at the pumps, for there is no duty a seaman dislikes more than
that. The captain, fairly worn out, had rolled himself in a great coat,
and was sleeping heavily, coiled up against the rails of the
quarter-deck. His mate was standing near the wheel, and the brig was
dragging slowly and heavily through the seas. Above the clear blue sky
and the bright stars, and around the ocean, with its surging waves,
while on the stillness of the night came the sharp clank of the chain
pumps: Towards morning the reefs were shaken out, and Hughes came aft.

"The water is gaining on us," he said, moodily, addressing the mate.
"Had the captain not better be roused?"

"What's the use? we cannot do more than has been done. We shall sight
land by daybreak, and I hope run into Port Natal, if the wind holds."

"Have you heard anything of Dom Maxara?" anxiously asked Hughes.

"Nothing; but he got a terrible mauling. When I saw him, he was lying
between the pump and the mainmast with his thigh broken."

"Is there any one else hurt?"

"Yes," returned the mate; "poor Stapleton has been severely crushed.
That huge sea dashed them both on deck and stove in all our boats."

"Is not that day breaking, away to the eastward?" asked Hughes.

"Yes; and if the wind will only hold, we shall soon sight the land, for
with the leak gaining on us, short-handed, and nearly dismasted, the
sooner we make a port the better," answered the mate, as, wearied and
moody, the soldier turned, and went below.

Volume 2, Chapter VIII.

THE RAFT.

Through the dim, grey light, Hughes took his way down the companion,
entering the brig's little cabin. If things had seemed gloomy on deck,
where the cool morning breeze was blowing, and the dying gale moaning
through the broken rigging, how much more desolate all seemed here as he
paused and looked about him. The hatches were on, the deadlights
shipped, and a lamp, with its long wick unsnuffed, swung wildly to and
fro. Down the companion came the first faint sickly streaks of the
coming day. The soaked carpets, the crimson seats drenched with
salt-water, and the broken cabin furniture, were the natural results of
the few minutes the brig had been lying on her beam ends. A small table
had broken from its lashings and, fetching way, pitched right into a
large mirror, and there it lay broken among the shivered glass. The
crew were now