Chapter Seventy Five.
Towards the Beacon!
As soon as they were satisfied that the bright spark upon the horizon was a burning light, every individual on the raft became inspired with the same impulse,—to make for the spot where the object appeared. Whether in the galley or not,—and whether the glow of a fire or the gleam of a lamp,—it must be on board a ship. There was no land in that part of the ocean; and a light could not be burning upon the water, without something in the shape of a ship to carry it.
That it was a ship, no one for a moment doubted. So sure were they, that several of the men, on the moment of making it out, had vociferated, at the top of their voices, “Ship ahoy!”
The voices of none of them were particularly strong just then. They were weak, in proportion to their attenuated frames; but had they been ten times as strong as they were, they could not have been heard at such a distance as that light was separated from the raft.
It was not less than twenty miles from them. In the excited state of their senses,—arising from thirst, starvation, and all the wild emotions which the discovery itself had roused within them,—they had formed a delusive idea of the distance; many of them fancying that the light was quite near!
There were some among them who reasoned more rationally. These, instead of wasting their strength in idle shouting, employed their time in impressing upon the others the necessity of making some exertion to approach the light.
Some thought that much exertion would not be required; as the light appeared to be approaching them. And, in truth, it did appear so; but the wiser ones knew that this might be only an optical illusion,—caused by the sea and sky each moment assuming a more sombre hue.
These last—both with voice and by their example—urged their companions to use every effort towards coming up with what they were sure must be a ship.