“It’s them, though!” cried Harry. “Heaven be praised! They are beckoning to us; let us go aft and help them.”
He and his friends were soon grasping each other’s hands, and describing what had occurred. Tom soon followed, and poor Tim, having recovered his wits, and being convinced that they were alive, joined them.
Their condition was sad indeed. There lay the vessel rolling and tumbling about in the stormy ocean, the seas constantly making a clear breach over her, the mainmast gone altogether, but the wreck of the foremast still hanging on by the bowsprit and violently striking her bows.
It was found that the best place for safety was inside the companion hatch, where they all collected; and being there partially free from the seas, they endeavoured to get a little rest, to prepare for whatever they might have to do in the morning.
At length daylight broke; but it did little else than reveal more clearly their forlorn condition.
True Blue having been preserved himself, was anxious to ascertain whether his companions might have escaped in a similar way. Tom assured him that there was no hope; but he insisted on going forward to see. The rest of the party watched him as he performed the dangerous passage, for the seas kept continually beating over the vessel, and might easily have washed him away. He reached the fore-hatch, and, stooping down, called to the men. No answer was given. The water was much too high in the cabin to have allowed them to escape, and he returned aft convinced of their death.
For some hours no one had thought of eating, but hunger now reminded them that it was necessary to try and obtain food. There was enough in the vessel, if it could be got at; but the difficulty was to fish it up from beneath the water.
In vain they watched—nothing appeared. True Blue, who was the most active, made several unsuccessful dives; but returned at length so exhausted that Paul would not let him go again.
At last a flag floated up. It seemed to come to remind them that it would be wise to make a signal of distress. A small spar had got jammed in the bulwarks. The flag, which proved to be a French tricolour, was secured to it, and it was stuck in one of the pumps.
“I would rather see any ensign but that flying overhead,” said Paul; “but it will help to make us be seen, anyhow.”