In the condition our ship was, the only course was to run before the wind; so we once again kept away. The stranger soon followed; and as she carried more sail than we could, we saw she would soon pass us. Hope once more deserted us; for it was possible that the master, finding that there were so many of us on board, might think himself justified, for the safety of his own people, to leave us to our fate. I confess that on this I regretted that I had not gone off with Silas Flint on the raft; but then I remembered that I had done my duty in sticking to my ship to the last. It seemed dreadful, indeed, to be thus left to perish. However, just as the stranger was about to pass us, a man in the rigging held up a board on which was written the cheering words, “We will keep near you, and take you off when the weather moderates.”
Suppose, I thought, the weather does not moderate till the flames burst forth, at any moment they may break through the deck!
I am afraid of wearying my readers with an account of our sufferings.
Our greatest want was water. We fancied that, if we could have had a few drops to cool our lips, we could have borne anything else. Some drank salt water, against the warning of the mate, and in consequence increased their sufferings.
Worn out with fatigue, the crew every hour grew weaker, so that there was scarcely a man left with strength to steer, much more to go aloft. Night came on to increase our difficulties. The stranger proved to be the Mary, bound from Bristol also to Quebec. She at first kept a short distance ahead, showing a light over her stern by which we might steer.
I ought to have said that the captain had taken the sextant, chronometer, and charts with him, and that in their mad outbreak the emigrants had destroyed the binnacle and the compasses in it, so that we had the Mary’s light alone to depend on. Mr Bell had divided those who remained of the crew, and some of the emigrants willing to exert themselves, into two watches.
I was to keep the middle watch. I lay down on the deck aft to sleep on one of the only few dry or clean spots I could find. I was roused up at midnight, and just as I had got on my feet, I heard a voice sing out, “Where’s the Mary’s light?” I ran forward. It was nowhere to be seen.