Harry rubbed his eyes.
“Yes, it is. A sail! a sail!” he exclaimed.
“I thought so, but feared that my hopes might have deceived me,” said old Tom. “She is standing this way, and is close-hauled.”
The boat was steered so as to intercept the stranger. Harry kept his gaze fixed on her. She was evidently a whaler.
“Can she be the Steadfast?” exclaimed Dickey, who was also earnestly looking at her.
“I was in hopes that she might be,” exclaimed Harry.
“The Steadfast would be deeper in the water, and has a new cloth on her foretopsail, and that ship has not,” observed old Tom.
“We should be thankful, whatever she is,” said Mr Hart. “Let us return thanks to God for sending her to rescue us.”
The men roused up on hearing that a ship was approaching, and managed even to get their oars out to pull alongside her.
As they drew near they saw clearly that she was not the Steadfast.