“Oh! Justin, Justin, then she will surely anchor there. And we—we shall be rescued! Oh! we shall see our fellow-beings and our native land again! The thought makes me reel with joy and—suspense!” exclaimed Miss Conyers, really growing dizzy with emotion, and clasping the flagstaff for support.
“Dear sister, calm yourself.”
“Ah! how can I? Our case seemed so hopeless! and now the thought that we shall be rescued and taken back to our native country overwhelms me! Oh, to leave this! to go home! it is like bursting the bonds of the grave, and rising from death to life! To go home!—to go home! Oh, Justin, does she draw near? Are you sure that she does not turn her head to steer away again?”
“Sure.”
“At what rate does she seem to sail? Is she making rapid progress?” persisted Britomarte.
“She is making very rapid progress, though I cannot tell you at how many knots an hour she is sailing. There! I can see her colors now.”
“You can! What are they? English? Dutch?”
“I think they are our own Stars and Stripes—the most beautiful national colors that fly!”
“Oh, Justin—Oh, Justin! Our own dear Star-Spangled Banner! That would be too much joy!”
“I think it is our flag. I am not sure, because I cannot yet see very distinctly. I think it is, because I see the red and the white; but I cannot make out the blue field with the white stars.”