“Harry, Harry!” said Gerard in a low voice, “I don’t think I can stand this much longer. Oh, my poor father! my poor father! how sorry he will be to think that I should often have done things which I knew would vex him.”
“Silence,” said Burkett; “we must try at all events and make ourselves heard, lest Brand should have failed to reach the shore. Now get ready for a shout; never fear cracking our voices.”
We were just then, as far as we could judge, directly abreast of the light. Every instant after this would be making our case more hopeless. How we shouted, again and again! but all we heard in return was the discordant shriek of the sea-fowl as they flew away startled at the noise. So we drifted on. In vain we shouted; our voices grew weary, and we gave it up in despair. Our eyes were still fixed on the light. We sunk lower and lower. We held on to the boat, but every moment increased our difficulty in so doing, the wind getting up, or rather we had drifted into a more exposed part of the channel, and the boat began to toss about, while the spray beat wildly over us. How long the time seemed! Every moment was counted as a minute; every minute as an hour. We had to gripe on to the keel with all our might, or we should have been washed off. With the greatest difficulty we could retain our hold. Yet we could still see the light dimly glimmering in the distance; but as that grew fainter and fainter, so did our hopes of being rescued. Scarcely could we see the light; dimmer and dimmer it grew; then we looked—it had disappeared! The rapid current hurried us on. The wide, storm-tossed Southern Ocean lay spread out before us. Darkness was around us. No land could be distinguished. Hope of life fled. We all prayed. We encouraged each other. We resolved not to give way to despair while life remained. We had to speak in a loud tone to be heard.
“Silence!” exclaimed Burkett abruptly. “I heard a sound. Yes, yes! See, see! Heaven be praised; that noble fellow Brand is safe, and we may yet be saved!” As he spoke, a thin stream of light shot upwards from the dark ocean, and broke into a thousand beautiful coruscations above our heads. “A rocket! the schooner had some on board for signals,” cried Burkett. “She is under weigh to look for us!”
About the light we had no doubt; but it was scarcely possible that he could have heard any sound. None, at all events, had reached our ears. A few moments before, we had been prepared to die; now life, with its many fancied advantages, occupied all our thoughts. With intense eagerness we looked towards the spot whence the rocket had ascended. All was darkness. Suddenly a light burst forth; of intense brightness it seemed, as it shed its rays over the foam-sprinkled, dancing water, and showed us clearly the spars, and rigging, and white canvas of the schooner. We shouted long and lustily, but we were too far off to be heard. Our hearts sunk, for she was standing away from us. Once more we shouted. Our shout was answered from a different direction from that where we had seen the schooner. Earnestly we listened. We could distinguish, too, the loud barking of a dog.
“Old Surley is safe, at all events. I am glad of that, poor fellow,” exclaimed Gerard. “I like that old dog.”
We watched eagerly. A light was observed dancing over the seas. Again we cried out. How cheery struck those sounds on our ears, which we had thought would never hear the human voice again. In less than five minutes a whale-boat dashed up to us, with old Surley in her bow, and at her stern sat Cousin Silas. We were saved! and before we could speak, we sank down on our knees, to return thanks to Him whose right arm had preserved us. A few words served to tell us how Cousin Silas had reached the shore a little way above the station, with old Surley as his companion; how kindly he had been received, and how promptly every one rushed to man the boats to hasten to our rescue.
In less than an hour we were at the station, when the schooner and the other boats soon returned. We were put to bed and rubbed with blankets, and had hot rum and water poured down our throats, so that very soon we recovered; nor did we suffer any material injury from the cold and wet to which we had been so long exposed. The schooner had been delayed, being unable to complete her cargo of seal-skins by the time expected. The next day we sailed, and in three days arrived safely in Stanley. We found the Triton ready for sea, and only waiting our return to sail. I was in the cabin when Captain Frankland first saw Gerard after hearing of our escape. Tears stood in the old man’s eyes as he took his son in his arms; and I saw by the expression of his countenance how he loved him. Mr Brand always stood high in his estimation; when he heard of what Silas had done, he stood higher still. I must own it, Jerry and I very soon forgot the awe-inspiring thoughts which had passed through our minds while we expected so soon to be called into eternity. Our chief concern was, having lost our guns and gamebags. We were, therefore, highly delighted when Burkett and Kilby made their appearance on board, each with a very good fowling-piece in his hand, with powder-flasks and shot-belts, and all other requisites, and begged our acceptance of them, in remembrance, as they said, of the adventures we had gone through together.
“Thank you, thank you,” we exclaimed; “we’ll not forget you, at all events, wherever we go.”
We called our guns after the good-natured donors, and had their names engraved on them. Many a wild-fowl did Burkett and Kilby knock over in various parts of the world. Old Surley accompanied our visitors. Mr Brand and he had become great friends after their long swim together; and Kilby, to whom he belonged, in the warmth of his heart presented him to Cousin Silas, who, very much to our satisfaction, did not refuse the gift. Thus old Surley became our companion in many a subsequent adventure. Just before we sailed, some very sad news reached the colony. It was the death of Captain Allen Gardiner and his six companions on the bleak coast of Terra del Fuego, where they had gone for the purpose of forming a missionary establishment, with the hope of spreading a knowledge of the Christian faith among the benighted inhabitants of those wild regions.