The cheer was taken up by his companions in misfortune. Even Billy lifted up his head.
“Is it true, Rogers, that you see a sail?” he asked.
“As true as that we are here, but we must not make too sure of being discovered,” replied Tom.
“Sure, they would not be after passing us, if they once get sight of the wreck,” said Desmond.
“That’s just what they may not happen to do,” answered Tom, who had become much less sanguine than formerly, and, hungry and worn out, was inclined to look on the dark side of things.
The breeze increased, the stranger drew nearer and nearer. Tom and Desmond were both of opinion that she was a man-of-war. Casey thought the same. The question was, however, whether she would pass them by. She was steering due west, and an object so low in the water as the hull of the brig now was, might not be visible. On she came, until she was about south-east of them, and as yet it was evident that those on board had not seen the wreck, though she herself was easily made out to be a large man-of-war steamer. Proudly she was gliding on, when her yards were braced up and she stood towards the brig.
“Thank Heaven, there is no longer any doubt about it!” cried Tom. “Rouse up, Billy, rouse up, my boy! We are all right! Here comes the steamer to our assistance, and more than that, I’m very sure that she is the Empress, or a craft so like her that it would be difficult to distinguish one from the other.”
Poor Billy could only raise his head and smile faintly, as he ejaculated, “Thank Heaven, too!”
Tom was undoubtedly right. In a few minutes more the Empress was almost within hail, a boat was lowered, and with rapid strokes came pulling towards them. Mr Norman, from whom they had last parted on the coast of Papua, was in her, but he evidently did not recognise them, supposing them to be part of the brig’s crew.
“Slide down, and we will catch you,” he cried out, as the boat pulled close to the keel of the brig, the rigging preventing her approaching the deck side.