On she came. Unless our small flag was observed, as the deck of the canoe rose but a few feet above the water, should she pass only a mile or two on either side she might sail away without noticing us. We did not forget to pray that we might be seen. She came nearer and nearer. At length, to our joy, we saw a flag run up to her mast-head as an answer to our signal.
We were seen. Still the breeze was light, and the ship seemed to be a long time coming up to us.
Every moment was of consequence. I dreaded lest aid should come too late for dear Maud, while several others appeared unable to last much longer.
How often do we mistrust God’s mercy. The vessel came close to us, and heaving-to, a boat was lowered.
“She is a whaler,” exclaimed Mr Norton. “Water, water—bring water with you,” he shouted; but his voice was faint and hollow, he pointed to his lips.
The sign was understood, for the boat put back, and a cask was lowered into it. In another minute, with sturdy strokes, the boat’s crew dashed alongside. We heard the sound of English voices.
“You seem in a sad plight, my lad,” said the officer of the boat. “We thought you were all savages. Are there any more of you on board?”
Mr Norton pointed to where Maud and I lay. The cask of water was lifted on deck, and the officer approached us with a cup. I begged him to give Maud some. He poured a few drops down her throat.
“Come, young lady, you must take some now,” he said.
How delicious was that draught—it almost instantly revived me. I gave Maud some more, and then offered the cup to Abela. Those of the crew who could move crawled towards the cask. The young seaman poured it out from the cask into their hands, that they might obtain it sooner. I remember thinking it a fearful waste that any of the precious liquid should be spilled. Not till all the rest had received some water would Mr Norton take the cup which the mate offered him.