While she was in the act of putting about on one of these tacks, the look-out reported “a boat on the lee bow.”
“Boat on the lee bow!” was passed from mouth to mouth, and the order was immediately given to let the frigate fall off. In another minute, instead of ploughing her way slowly and doggedly to windward, the Talisman ran swiftly before the breeze towards a dark object which at a distance resembled a boat with a mast and a small flag flying from it.
“It is a raft, I think,” observed the second lieutenant, as he adjusted the telescope more perfectly.
“You are right, and I think there is someone on it,” said Mulroy. “I see something like a man lying on it, but whether he is dead or alive I cannot say. There is a flag, undoubtedly—but no one waves a handkerchief or a rag of any kind. Surely, if a living being occupied the raft he would have seen the ship by this time. Stay, he moves! No; it must have been imagination. I fear that he is dead, poor fellow. Stand by to lower a boat.”
The lieutenant spoke in a sad voice, for he felt convinced that he had come too late to the aid of some unfortunate who had died in perhaps the most miserable manner in which man can perish.
Henry Stuart did indeed lie on the raft a dead man to all appearance. Towards the evening of his third day, he had suffered very severely from the pangs of hunger. Long and earnestly had he gazed round the horizon, but no sail appeared. He felt that his end was approaching, and in a fit of despair and increasing weakness, he fell on his face in a state of half consciousness. Then he began to pray, and, gradually, he fell into a troubled slumber.
It was while he was in this condition, that the Talisman hove in sight. Henry had frequently fallen into this species of sleep during the last few hours, but he never continued in it long, for the pains of thirst as well as hunger now racked his frame. Nevertheless, he was not much reduced in strength or vigour. A long slow process of dying would have still lain before the poor youth, had it been his lot to perish on that raft.
A delightful dream came over him as he lay. A rich banquet was spread before him. With wolfish desire he grasped the food, and ate as he never ate before. Oh! it was a rare feast that! Each morsel was delicious; each draught was nectar. But he could not devour enough. There was a strange feeling in him that he could by no means eat to satisfaction.
While he was thus feasting in dreams the Talisman drew near. Her bulwarks were crowded with faces gazing earnestly at the bit of red rag that fluttered in the breeze and the pile of loose spars on the man’s form lay extended and motionless.
Suddenly Henry awoke with a start, to find that his rich banquet was a terrible delusion! that he was starving to death—and that a large ship was hove-to within a few yards of him!