The wind was light, and she made but little progress. It freshened, however, in the evening, and during the night the log showed that she was going at a fair rate.
Rayner was in the morning watch, and was forward when the look-out from the mast-head shouted, “A piece of wreck away on the starboard bow.” As the ship would pass close by it, she was kept on her course. Rayner was examining the piece of wreck through his glass, when he saw what he supposed was a person moving on it.
He went aft, and reported this to the first lieutenant, who was on deck, and the ship was headed up towards it. “I can see four or five men!” exclaimed Rayner, “some are lying down. One man is kneeling up and waving.”
By this time the commander had come on deck, and as the ship drew near, he ordered a boat to be got ready.
Two of the men were seen to rise on their knees, and wave.
“They must have belonged to the crew of the ship which blew up the other day, though how they escaped seems a miracle,” observed the commander. “Poor fellows, they must have suffered fearfully! Put a beaker of water and some food in the boat. They’ll want nourishment as soon as possible.”
The corvette was hove-to. Rayner took charge of the boat, the crew pulling eagerly away to the rescue of the hapless men on the raft.
As they drew near, Rayner observed, to his surprise, as he stood up steering, that one of the persons kneeling on the raft was dressed in the uniform of an English midshipman.
“Give way, lads—give way!” he shouted.
The boat was quickly up to the raft, which was a portion apparently of the poop deck. Besides the young Englishman, there were five persons dressed as ordinary seamen, dark, swarthy fellows, their countenances haggard, and their whole appearance wretched in the extreme.