Perishing of Hunger and Thirst.
It was a night of great discomfort, a storm of wind and rain arising, and the day which followed was little if any better, the same weather conditions prevailing throughout. I continued to scull the boat at intervals all through the day, but it was horribly distressing work, the distress being aggravated by the knowledge that it was all for so small a result, since I estimated that by the end of the day we had accomplished little more than six miles of progress.
It was about four o’clock that afternoon when my fast-failing energies received a fresh stimulus. I had been wearily toiling at the oar for about an hour, facing west so that I might be guided in my course by the pale blotch of light which represented the position of the sun, when a cry from Julius, who was the only alert member of the party, caused me to turn my head. I saw him pointing eagerly toward the north-eastern quarter.
“Aren’t those the masts of a ship over yonder, Mr Leigh?” the boy asked, and looking in the direction of his pointing finger I caught sight, as the boat lifted over a swell, of two microscopic objects which I at once recognised as a vessel’s mast-heads. They stood out fairly clear against the gloomy background of lowering sky, and after a prolonged scrutiny of them I came to the conclusion that they belonged to a small schooner, some fifteen miles distant—probably one of the craft that make a business of trading among the islands of the western and southern Pacific.
“You are right, Julius, they are,” I cried eagerly. “Do you feel equal to handling an oar for an hour or two?”
“You bet I do,” answered the lad with equal eagerness. “I am equal to doing anything that will help us to get out of this beastly boat and on to a ship once more.”
“Right!” I exclaimed. “Come along, then, and let us see what we can do. That craft is only about fifteen miles off, and if this calm will last long enough we are bound to fetch her,” and I hastened to adjust the rowlocks into position for using both oars.
Meanwhile, our remarks had stirred the rest of the party from listlessness into action—they all sat up and looked eagerly at the two tiny pin-points on the horizon; and Mrs Vansittart, climbing down into the cockpit, exclaimed:
“Yes, I guess that is a ship, all right, and we’ve got to reach her. I’ll help you, Jule; your strength and mine together ought to be equal to Walter’s, so between us we shall keep the boat going straight.”
But the stewardesses, good plucky girls, would not agree to this. With one voice they declared that they were not going to sit still and let their mistress work; so the end of it was that they arranged to take one oar, both working at it at once, while Julius volunteered to help me. Presently we had the two mast-heads bearing straight ahead, and the boat moving through the water at the rate of about three miles an hour, the two girls, being perfectly fresh, doing quite as much work as Julius and myself.