“It is going to be only a summer gale,” observed Harry. “When the morning comes we shall be easily able to rig a fore and aft sail, and stand in for the shore. The poor, good old man, I am very sorry for him, and so I am for the boy; but for ourselves it does not so much matter, except that we shall have to breakfast on raw fish, and perhaps after all not get home to dinner. My dear mother, too, and Jane, may be frightened, and I don’t like the thought of that.”
“Yes, to be sure, I forgot that; I am afraid those at my home will be frightened too, when they hear nothing of us,” said David. “One comfort is, that we did not keep away intentionally, though, to be sure, it was thoughtless of us to be caught by the tide as we were. But don’t let us think of ourselves; better let us see what we can do for this poor old man. I believe that he is still alive, though how to bring him round I don’t know. If we had any liquor to give him we might pour it down his throat, but as we have nothing we must keep his head up and let him lay quiet till daylight,” said Harry.
David was thoroughly accustomed to boat-sailing, so that he was well able to keep the boat dead before the wind. The sea came curling up astern, but none broke over her; had even one done so it would have sent her to the bottom. A very little conversation took place after this. Only Harry, fearing that he and his friend might lose heart, every now and then said something to keep up their spirits. It was somewhat forced, it must be owned, for they both saw that their position was very critical. The hours passed slowly by—now the one, now the other took the helm. Morning broke at last; they looked out, expecting to see the land aboard on the starboard hand, but not a glimpse of land was visible—nothing but sea and sky on every side around of a leaden grey hue—not a streak in the horizon showed where the sun was rising. They could only guess by the wind the points of the compass. Harry proposed hauling up for where they supposed the land to be, but David considered that such a proceeding would be dangerous, and that it would be safer to run on till the weather moderated and they could get sail on the boat. They neither of them sufficiently calculated the strength of the tide, which, running for six hours, had carried them many miles to the eastward. The old man was alive, but sat perfectly still at the bottom of the boat. It seemed indeed doubtful if, after remaining in that state so long, he would ever recover. Their anxiety prevented them from feeling hungry; indeed, as yet, they fancied that they could not bring themselves to eat raw fish. They now tried various means to bring the old man to consciousness, by rubbing his hands and his feet, and occasionally his forehead. It is difficult to say whether these means had any effect. At length, at all events, he slowly opened his eyes; then he closed them again, and they thought that he was dying. Then once more he opened them, and looked about him with a puzzled and pained expression of countenance. Now he gazed inquiringly at David—now at Harry.
“Where is Tristram? where is my grandson?” he asked, speaking very slowly. “Gone! gone! oh, don’t say that. What have you done with him, my young masters?”
With sad hearts the boys told him how the accident had happened.
“Then may God take me to my boy, my poor boy,” he exclaimed hiding his face in his hands, and sinking back once more into the bottom of the boat.