Some of his hearers remembered those words in after years. All night long the oars were kept going, and when morning dawned the ship was nowhere to be seen.
“Now let us turn to and have some breakfast,” exclaimed O’Grady. “It will be the first for many a day that you and I have eaten in sunlight, Devereux, and I see good reason that we should be thankful. Then we’ll have a tune from Alphonse, for I’ll warrant that he has brought his fiddle.”
“Ah, dat I have,” cried the young Frenchman, exhibiting his beloved instrument. “But, mes amis, ve vill mange first. De arm vil not move vidout de oil!”
Alphonse had greatly improved in his knowledge of English.
A good supply of provisions had been collected, but as it was uncertain when they should make the land, it was necessary to be economical in their use. A very good breakfast, however, was made, and the spirits of the party rose as their hunger was appeased, and they thought of their happy escape. As the sun, however, arose in the blue sky, its rays struck down on their unprotected heads, and they would gladly have got under shelter, but there was no shelter for them out on the glassy shining sea. Still they rowed on. To remain where they were was to die by inches. Devereux did his best, as he had done on the raft, to keep up the spirits of his men, and, weak as he was, he would have taken his spell at the oar if they had let him.
“No, no, sir; you just take your trick at the helm, if you think proper,” exclaimed Croxton. “But just let us do the hard work. It’s your head guides us, and without that we should be badly off.”
Devereux saw the wisdom of this remark. They knew that they had five, and perhaps six days’ hard rowing before they could hope to reach Dominica, the nearest island they supposed belonged to Great Britain, according to the information Paul had gained from the master. They were, however, far better off than when they had been on the raft, for they had food, were in a well-found boat, and knew tolerably well their position. Still they were not in good spirits, which is not surprising, considering the scenes they had witnessed, the dangers they had endured, and the uncertainty of the future.
Dominica was an English possession, but it had once been taken by the French, and might have been again; and Alphonse fancied that he had heard that it was proposed to make a descent on the island, in which case they would fall among enemies instead of friends.
“Ah! but your countrymen would surely treat us who come to them in distress as friends,” observed O’Grady.
“Ah, dat dey vould!” exclaimed Alphonse, warmly.