Another morning came, but still the glass-like ocean showed no signs of a coming breeze. They had put in their oars, and were munching their share of cocoa-nut and such small pieces of the fish as they could still eat, when suddenly, at a little distance, the surface of the water was broken, and a covey of flying-fish darted through the air towards them. A dozen or more fell into the boat, and were eagerly seized and killed by the famishing crew.
“Let us thank God, who sent them to us,” said Tom, as several of the men greedily began to bite at the fresh, tempting-looking morsels.
Half the number were cut up, and the remainder Tom advised should be reserved for dinner.
The food somewhat restored the men’s spirits, and they pulled on for some hours without murmuring.
Another and another day passed by, and then a breeze sprang up, and the sail was hoisted, and they ran on before the wind. All felt that unless they should shortly reach land or be picked up by a ship their fate was certain. Their cocoa-nuts and water were nearly exhausted, and even old Tom could with difficulty manage to eat a small portion of fish. Still he appeared calm and happy, and did his best to encourage his companions; he sat at the steering oar for the greater part of the day and night, taking but little rest. When he lay down he charged those who were on the watch to keep a bright look-out for land, while he himself, when awake, had his eyes moving round the horizon in the hope of discovering it.
At length all the water was gone, and not a piece of cocoa-nut remained. One of the crew, who had long been complaining, had lain down in the bow, saying he should go to sleep. When it was his turn to keep watch, Jack Harding, one of the men, tried to arouse him. Jack lifted his arm, which fell down by his side.
“Bill has slipped his cable, I am afraid,” said Jack, in a hollow voice.
Harry went forward to ascertain if such was the case. Bill was indeed dead.
“Lads,” said old Tom, “I don’t know which of us will go next, but this I know, that the case of those who are not trusting in Christ is a very terrible one. I won’t say anything about poor Bill, but I speak to you as a dying man to dying men. The day of grace has not yet passed—to-morrow it may have gone by for some, if not for all those who are still unreconciled to God. I said this before to you when you were in health; God in His mercy has allowed you to suffer from starvation and sickness, that He might lead you to Himself.”
“We dare say you speak the truth, Mr Hayes,” answered one of the men; “but it’s hard to believe that God, if He is as kind as you say, should allow us to suffer as we are doing.”