THE WRITING IN THE BOOK.
GILBERT saw the sudden change that had come into Timothy's countenance, but he paid little heed to it, for his own attention had been attracted by something else, something that the light of dawn had disclosed upon the sea not a cable's length away from where he and his two companions were floating about on that log of the lost galleon's mast.
Gripping Timothy's shoulders with his two hands, he cried aloud:
"Look you, Tim! Look! A ship!"
And at that instant Philip Oglander's eyes rested also upon the object which had attracted Gilbert.
Timothy craned his head round, and saw the ship's huge bulk heaving lazily upon the sea, with a glint of light upon a piece of brass that edged her forecastle rail. Her bow was towards them. Her masts were all gone, and there was no sign of life upon her decks. As she rose lazily upon the waves the lower planks of her hull were seen to be thickly encrusted with barnacles.
But Timothy was for the time being very little concerned with the ship. There was now a hope of safety, and with that hope he was satisfied. But his discovery that Philip Oglander was now a companion of their strange position filled him with a feeling of dismay, for he knew that Philip was no friend to Gilbert any more than to himself, and there was something about the lad that made him uncomfortable, while yet there was of course no reason to fear him. Touching Gilbert on the shoulder Tim signed to him to turn his head. Gilbert obeyed, and saw his cousin, and wondered how it had come to pass that he was here. His wonderment continued throughout the whole morning, for it was still impossible to carry on any conversation, on account not only of the noise of the storm, but also of the danger of moving and of being thrown off the spar into the sea.
At mid-day the wind fell and the sun came out. They were no nearer to the ship than they had been in the early morning. All through the afternoon the lads watched the labouring hulk, but even when the sun had set they could not be sure whether the distance between her and themselves had increased or diminished. That next night seemed to be a full year's time of endurance and cold and hunger, and their only comfort was in the consciousness that the waves were gradually becoming less in size and that the wind's force had abated.
On the next morning it was seen that the ship was a little nearer; she was indeed so close that every detail of her structure could be distinguished. She was still bow on, as the mariners say, and her towering after-castle could be seen high above the level of her forward bulwarks. Something about her—the tangle of green and brown sea-weed clinging to her bulging bows, the thick crust of barnacles below her water-line, and a white mess of guano along the edge of her bulwarks and about the lips of her chase-guns—seemed to indicate that she had been drifting for a long time unattended. It was clear that she had been deserted. It was equally clear that she had not formed one of either Don Alonzo's fleet from Spain or of the fleet of treasure-ships from the West Indies.
"Dost think we might get some food in her, Tim, if so be we could win our way aboard?" asked Gilbert.