The occupants of the two boats, as they lay together that evening
beneath the spangled canopy of heaven, little thought that the third of
the schooner's boats lay within a few miles of them, with Laure on
board, or they would not have slept in turn so peacefully and in such
calm hope of being saved, for as the schooner sank with its treasure it
seemed to all on board that with the silver sank the kind of curse that
had been upon them all along.
It was an empty sense of superstition, but it influenced them and
cheered them on through the long, sunny, scorching days as they bent to
their oars and toiled on; and in the evenings, when, taking advantage of
the soft breezes, the little sails were spread, and they crept on ever
north and east in the hope of gaining the course of one of the vessels
going south or west. But the days stole slowly by, and no sail
gladdened their sight, and at last, as the water grew low in the little
breakers and the provisions threatened to become exhausted, Dutch felt
his heart sink, and told himself with a bitter smile that they had not
yet worn out the power of the curse, if curse there were.
After long days of rowing, in which every man in the boats took part in
urging them up the sides of the long rollers and then down their
hill-like descent, the feeling of weary lassitude made itself more and
more felt. They suffered, too, from their cramped position in the
boats, but no one murmured. Even Rasp and Oakum ceased to wrangle, and
the former pursed up his wrinkled mouth and followed the example of
Oakum in whistling for a favouring wind.
At times the breeze would come, and, the sails filling, the boats sped
onwards, but the few miles they made before the wind again dropped
seemed as nothing in the immensity of the watery space around, and at
last, half-delirious with the heat, after being reduced to a few drops
of warm water each day, the sun went down like a great globe of fire,
and Dutch Pugh felt that the time had come when they must die.
A re-arrangement of the occupants of the boat had long been made, so
that both Dutch and Meldon were by those they loved, and now it seemed
that the nuptial bed of the latter would be that of death. Hope seemed
long before to have fled upon her bright wings, leaving only black
despair to brood over them like the eternal night. Hardly a word was
spoken in either boat, and once more the rope had been passed from one
to the other so that their desolate state might not become more desolate
by parting company during the night.
The night in question had fallen as black as that when the schooner was
blown away, but no one heeded it, neither did they listen to the ravings
of poor Wilson, who lay back in the stern sheets talking of his birds,
and calling some particular pet by name. Then he would whisper Bessy's
name, and talk to himself constantly about his love for her, till at
last the poor girl would be roused from her state of lethargy, and
laying her head on Meldon's breast sob for a few minutes--dry hysterical
sobs--and then subside once more. Oakum sat twisting up a piece of
yarn, crooning scraps of old songs, and 'Pollo would now and then, in a
half-delirious fashion, try to sing the fragment of a hymn; but these
attempts had grown now more and more spasmodic, and with the knowledge
bluntly felt now that they had but a few fragments to support them on
the following day, and no water, all sat or lay in a kind of stupefied
despair, waiting for the end.
Upon Dutch Pugh had of late fallen the leading of the little party, for
Captain Studwick had been taken ill from over-exertion with his oar
beneath the burning sun, and before dusk Dutch had directed a longing
gaze round the horizon in search of a sail, but in vain; and now he sat
with Hesters head resting upon his lap, her large bright eyes gazing up
into his, as longingly and full of love as ever, till, in the madness of
his despair, as he saw her dying before him, he had strained her wasted
form to his breast, and held her there when the darkness fell.
"Is there no hope, Dutch?" she whispered to him, faintly, as her lips
rested close by his ear.
"Yes, always--to the last, darling," he whispered.
"I am not afraid to die," she whispered back; "it is for you. If I
could only save your life."
He covered her lips with his kisses, and her arms passionately embraced
his neck, till a kind of heavy stupor fell on both, even as on all the
others in the boat. The rest of the food was eaten next day, and then
they sank back in their places to die.
But their fate was not that of Laure, whose boat was never seen again.
'Ere another day had passed, a fast steamer sighted them where they lay,
and bore down upon them as 'Pollo, the only one with strength enough
left, hoisted a handkerchief upon one of the oars and held it aloft.
It was but just in time, and long and energetic was the attention
required before the little party was out of danger, and by that time the
port of Southampton was reached, and the next day--home.