“God bless you!” murmured the lad faintly, and he closed his eyes. For a moment there was silence, the hot tears falling on his face as I leaned over him. At length he looked up; a smile of joy was on his countenance, and his lips moved. I put my ear to them and listened.
“Mother—father—I die happy, for we shall meet in heaven,” were the words that fell in broken murmurs from his lips, and then he sunk back on my lap and was dead. The sun, at the instant, was just sinking behind the distant seaboard. Ah! little did his mother, as she gazed on the declining luminary from her humble cottage window, think that that sun beheld the dying hour of her boy. Little did she think, as she knelt that night in prayer for him, that she was praying for one whose silent corpse rocked far away on the fathomless sea. Let us hope that when, in her sleep, she dreamed of hearing his loved voice once more, his spirit was hovering over her, whispering comfort in her ear. Thank God that we can believe the dead thus revisit earth, and become ministering angels to the sorrowing who are left behind!
Another sun went and came, and even the stoutest of hearts began to give way. For twenty-three days had we drifted on the pathless deep, and in all that time not a sail had appeared—nothing had met our sight but the brazen sky above and the unbroken deep below. During the greater portion of that period we had lain motionless on the glittering sea, for a succession of calms had prevailed, keeping us idly rocking on the long, monotonous swell. When the sun of the twenty-fourth day rose, vast and red, there was not one of us whose strength was more than that of an infant; and though, at the first intimation of dawn, we gazed around the horizon as we were wont, there was little of hope in our dim and glazing eyes. Suddenly, however, the topman’s look became animated, and the color went and came into his face, betokening his agitation. Following the direction of his eyes, I saw a small, white speck far off on the horizon. I felt the blood rushing to the ends of my fingers, while a dizziness came over my sight. I controlled my emotion, however, with an effort. At the same instant the doubts of the topman appeared to give way, and waving his hand around his head, he shouted,
“A sail!—a sail!”
“Whereaway?” eagerly asked a dozen feeble voices, while others of the crew who were too far gone to speak, turned their fading eyes in the direction in which all were now looking.
“Just under yonder fleecy cloud.”
“I can’t see it,” said one, “surely there is a mistake.”
“No—we are in the trough of the sea—wait till we rise—there!”
“I see it—I see it—huzza!” shouted several.
A sudden animation seemed to pervade all. Some rose to their feet and clasping each other in their arms, wept deliriously—some cast themselves on their knees and returned thanks to God—while some gazed vacantly from one face to another, every now and then breaking out into hysterical laughter. For a time it seemed as if all had forgotten that the strange sail was still far away, and that she might never approach near enough to be hailed. But these thoughts finally found their way into the hearts of the most sanguine, and gradually the exhilaration of sudden hope gave way to despair, or the even more dreadful uncertainty of suspense. Hour after hour, with flushed cheeks and eager eyes, the sufferers watched the course of that strange sail, and when at length her topsails began to lift, and her approach was no longer doubtful, a faint huzza rose up from their overcharged hearts, and once more they exhibited the wild delirious joy which had characterized the first discovery of the stranger.