Morning at last, and with the break of day the rain partially ceased, for its violence was not so great, but it kept falling; and now to add to their peril a gusty wind came from astern as the sun began to rise.
It was plain to all on board that if the surface became rough their boat must sink. For she was so heavily-laden that the space of side above the water was small indeed. Under the circumstances Captain Strong decided to raise the little lug-sail neatly rolled round its mast, and this latter being stepped, the sail was unfurled, and in a few minutes they were gliding rapidly on, shipping a little water from time to time, but no more than could be easily mastered and kept down.
Where to steer was not in their choice. All that could be done was to keep the gig afloat, and to this the captain and mate directed all their energies.
Food was distributed, and of water they felt no want, their saturated garments having quenched all thirst; but matters seemed to grow worse. Mr Morgan was delirious, and one of the men lay rambling on about some place in London where he meant to have called.
Morning, noon, evening, and the gig rushing on through the broken water with a thick misty rain all around and no chance of making out their whereabouts.
“Shall we be saved?” said Mrs Strong at last in a whisper as, utterly worn out, the captain came at last and sat down between his wife and son.
“Don’t ask, my dear,” he said calmly. “We have done, and are doing, all that men can do. The rest must be left.”
Night came, a night that was even blacker than that which had passed, but the rain did not cease nor the sky clear. Everything a hundred yards away seemed to be so much solid darkness; but, on the other hand, the sea grew no rougher, and the wind sent the boat rapidly along.
It must have been about midnight that, as nearly everyone in the gig were plunged in a stupor-like sleep, the first-mate was steering, the boat gliding swiftly through the broken waves. The major sat on one side and Mark on the other talking from time to time in a low voice.
A calm feeling of despair had settled down among them, and when they did speak it was about some indifferent matter, all shrinking from anything concerning their approaching fate, when Mark, who was stooping to pat the poor wounded dog at his feet, where he lay curled in company with shivering Jack, suddenly laid his hand upon Mr Gregory’s arm.