As Jack, a few mornings afterwards, was standing at the bow peering through an aperture in the grass canopy above him, he suddenly turned round and cried,-
"The sea! the sea!"
Dick started forwards, and looked eagerly in the same direction.
A large expanse of water was visible in the horizon, but after having surveyed it for a moment or two, he said,-
"No, Jack, it is not the sea, it is a great river; it is running west, and I suppose this river runs into it. Perhaps it is the Zaire."
"Let us hope it is," said Mrs. Weldon earnestly.
Most cordially did Dick Sands re-echo her words, being well aware that at the mouth of that river were Portuguese villages, where a refuge might assuredly be found.
For several succeeding days the canoe, still concealed by its covering, floated on the silvery surface of this new-found stream. On either side the banks became less arid, and there seemed everything to encourage the few survivors of the "Pilgrim" to believe that they would soon see the last of the perils and toils of their journey.
They were too sanguine. Towards three o'clock on the morning of the 18th, Dick, who was at his usual post at the bow, fancied he heard a dull rumbling towards the west. Mrs. Weldon, Jack, and Benedict were all asleep. Calling Hercules to him, he asked him whether he could not hear a strange noise. The night was perfectly calm, and not a breath of air was stirring. The negro listened attentively, and suddenly, his eyes sparkling with delight, exclaimed,-
"Yes, captain, I hear the sea!"