He shuddered as he realized what his fate was likely to be. When his food and water were exhausted he would drift till death overtook him. Perhaps months, and maybe years, afterward his body, dried by the heat, would be found adrift on the Pacific and form another of those "ocean mysteries," of which Captain Akers had told.
The thought was not a cheerful one and Nat tried to busy his mind with other thoughts. What were they doing on board the "Nomad"? What would they be thinking on the schooner? What of the mysterious man, of giant strength, to whose vindictive action he owed all his present trouble?
"It's a queer situation all around," thought Nat. "Here am I on the ocean in a rowboat. Joe and Captain Akers are marooned on a schooner, filled with mystery, and the 'Nomad' is crippled and drifting about some place, under sail. Shall we ever all meet again, I wonder?"
So the afternoon passed and the sun grew lower and set. Night rushed down over the sea with all the swiftness characteristic of those latitudes. Nat, his head sunk in his hands, allowed his boat to drift. He had oars, but, he felt, what was the use of using them? One way was the same as another to him in his predicament. Let the boat drift at her will.
But by and by the darkness and the inaction got on his nerves. Picking up the oars, he fell to work feverishly, trying to forget his troubles in the work. The boat fairly cut along. For some hours he kept this up and then, worn out, he cast himself on the bottom of his craft and sank into a deep sleep.
He was awakened by a sharp tug at his sleeve. Starting up, Nat heard the loud swish of wings. In the darkness he could dimly make out a huge, winged form making off through the air.
"Ugh!" he exclaimed, with a shudder, "that was some bird of prey that concluded that I was dead. It was about to make a meal off me if I had not moved."
Nat shook nervously as he realized that, if some way was not found out of his predicament before long, he would in very truth be food for just such birds.
The thought bestirred him to action. He sat bolt upright and gazed about him. But nothing that he could perceive within his limited radius of view appeared to give him hope. The night was as silent as the sea. Overhead the stars burned steadily and with a soft intensity not seen in the east.
As he gazed up at them a sudden thought was born in Nat's brain. He threw himself on his knees on the bottom of the boat and, clasping his hands, he besought his Maker to look down in pity upon him. His heart seemed lightened as he prayed.