As the delusive fog was swept away before the breeze, Brand uttered a howl, and throwing himself down, dashed his head against one of the planks of the raft.
"Eat—drink! I must have something! Come, it is time!"
And he drew forth a clasp knife, eyeing Mary at the same moment with a wolfish gleam in the eyes not to be mistaken.
The bare thought seemed to inspire Harry with a rage almost demoniacal.
He threw himself upon the man, wrenching the knife from his grasp, and hurling it into the sea.
Then he caught the captain by the throat, and seemed on the point of hurling him overboard.
Turk, however, interfered.
"That work won't do, lad! You'd be sorry for it when you got over sich feelin's as at present agitates you. Let him alone, sir. We'll all have sufferin' enough yet, I'll warrant ye!"
Thus prevailed upon, not only by the old sailor but by the mingled pleadings of Mary, Harry relaxed his hold of the fellow, who, with a baffled howl, sank down, glaring at the water, as if hoping to see his knife again rise to the surface.
Meanwhile a fresh breeze now came along, wrinkling the water, and falling upon the heated brows and parched lips of the raft's people, inspiring sensations of relief.