When he had finished he looked about him once more. At first everything seemed to be the same as when he had withdrawn his gaze; but, after a minute, he perceived that on the far-distant horizon something unusual was showing. A dull, red glow.
As he gazed it grew brighter and spread till it seemed to light up the whole sky. The atmosphere burned blood-red with the light.
"A ship on fire!" thought Nat.
Then came the idea:
"If so, some of her crew have likely escaped and taken to the boats. I'll row over toward them. They say 'misery loves company.' I'm sure I shall be glad to fall in with any one to whom I can talk and who can possibly guide me to some place of safety."
So thinking, Nat fell to his oars and began pulling, with might and main, for the distant glow.
But distances at sea are deceptive. It seemed to him he had pulled at least five miles when he gave a second glance over his shoulder at the fiery sky.
To his disappointment, the blaze seemed to be as far off as ever. Nat knew, however, that this could not be the case, and, bending to his oars once more, he pluckily pulled onward. He was rewarded, in a few minutes, by finding the light growing visibly stronger and the blaze closer to hand.
As yet, however, he had seen no boats, nor traces of refugees from the burning ship—such as he surmised the glow must be caused by.
"Maybe they are all waiting near by to see the last of their vessel," thought Nat. "In that case I must hurry up or she'll have burned to the water's edge before I arrive."