It was at this juncture that Philip Oglander, swimming about in search of some wreckage by which he might hope to save himself, caught sight of the negro José. Timothy and Gilbert had their backs to him; he only saw that they were human figures, and that they were for the time being on a secure refuge. Swimming towards José, he at last attracted the negro's attention. The noise of the wind and waves was too great for a voice to be heard, and he climbed upon the floating mast without either Gilbert or Timothy's knowledge. It was, indeed, as much as any one of them could do to retain his balance and keep himself from being washed off, for the ponderous log upon which they rested rolled heavily upon the waves, and at times either plunged into them or was itself by them thrown upward into the air, and those who rode upon it might better have been upon a mad horse, so difficult was it to keep a seat. Cold and hungry and pale with the terror of their situation, the boys clung tightly with legs and arms, hoping only that God would bring them out of their peril.
The night came on and darkness deepened their distresses. Timothy, who was in front of Gilbert, had not thus far dared to turn round and face him, but he had worked his way backward so that Gilbert might cling to him, and the while the boy's hand touched him he was comforted. In the darkness of the night Gilbert heard what he thought was a human cry—as in truth it was,—and putting his lips to Timothy's ear he called out:
"He hath fallen off! José hath fallen off!"
But later he felt that someone was moving behind him, and again he spoke to Timothy.
"Nay, I mistook," said he; "he is still with us."
Timothy made no response, satisfied only that his companion was able to take even so much interest in anything apart from the thought of his own immediate danger.
The storm subsided somewhat during the early morning. The spar floated more easily, and when a faint streak of gray light appeared in the eastern sky, Timothy ventured to alter his position and bring himself round face to face with Gilbert. Glancing over Gilbert's shoulder, he saw that the negro—or what he supposed to be the figure of the negro—was still there, lying with his head upon his hands, and his hands gripping a strand of thick rope that was coiled about the mast. As the light grew stronger, however, he was astonished to notice that those hands were not black, and that where he had expected to see a head of woolly black hair there was a head whose hair was long and straight. Further scrutiny revealed to him the fact that through a long rent in their companion's jerkin there was a gleam of white skin. He waited until the coming daylight should enable him to discover more of this mystery, and as yet he said nothing to Gilbert.
At last the dawn broke, and with its coming Timothy saw the pale haggard face of Philip Oglander turned towards him, with the dark hollow eyes gleaming in startled recognition.