“Mr. Ernescliffe had the command of the second cutter. He asked to take me with him; I was glad enough; and Owen—he is mate, you know—went with us.”
As to telling how he felt when he saw the good ship Alcestis blown to fragments, that was past Harry, and all but Blanche were wise enough not to ask. She had by way of answer, “Very glad to be safe out of her.”
Nor was Harry willing to dwell on the subsequent days, when the unclouded sun had been a cruel foe; and the insufficient stores of food and water did, indeed, sustain life, but a life of extreme suffering. What he told was of the kindness that strove to save him, as the youngest, from all that could be spared him. “If I dropped asleep at the bottom of the boat, I was sure to find some one shading me from the sun. If there was an extra drop of water, they wanted me to have it.”
“Tell me their names, Harry!” cried Dr. May. “If ever I meet one of them—”
“But the storm, Harry, the storm?” asked Blanche. “Was that not terrible?”
“Very comfortable at first, Blanche,” was the answer. “Oh, that rain!”
“But when it grew so very bad?”
“We did not reck much what happened to us,” said Harry. “It could not be worse than starving. When we missed the others in the morning, most of us thought them the best off.”
Mary could not help coming round to kiss him, as if eyes alone were not enough to satisfy her that here he was.
Dr. May shuddered, and went on reading, and Margaret drew Harry down to her, and once more by looks craved for more minute tidings.