Day after day we glided on, still favoured by fine weather. The little tent we had brought sheltered the Frau and her charges. Those who had been on watch also were not sorry in the day-time to creep into it and go to sleep. Thus we all obtained sufficient rest, and those alone who have been exposed as we were, can understand how sweet that rest was.
“A sail! a sail!” cried Roger Trew. The beams of the rising sun were shining on the white canvas of a ship which was hull down a long way to the westward. She seemed to be crossing our course, but whether we could reach her before she had stood to any great distance seemed doubtful. We got out our oars to increase the speed of our raft. How eagerly we all kept looking towards that patch of white just rising above the horizon! We drew nearer and nearer. Perhaps the look-out aloft might have seen us. From the deck of the ship we could scarcely have been visible. Frequently, as we drew nearer, I felt inclined to shriek out and to shout to her to stay for us.
“Do you think she is English?” asked Mr Hooker.
“Little doubt about it,” answered Mr Thudicumb. “She is a merchantman, though probably bound round from Singapore to trade with some of these islands, and maybe to go to Sydney, or perhaps up to China.”
It seemed very doubtful, however, whether she would perceive us before she had got to a distance. Already she was ahead of us, standing away on the port tack. Our eyes, as they had hitherto been, were still fixed on her.
“See! see! there is lift tacks and sheets!—the helm’s a-lee!—she’s coming round!” shouted Tarbox. “We are seen! we are seen!”