All conversation had come to an end. Even the few phrases at intervals
exchanged between Snowball and the sailor,--the solemn import of which
had been zealously kept from the child by their being spoken in
_French_--were no longer heard.
The swimmers, now wellnigh exhausted, had for a long interval preserved
this profound silence, partly for the reason of their being exhausted,
and partly that no change had occurred in the circumstances surrounding
them,--nothing that required a renewal of the conversation. The awe of
approaching death,--now so near, that twenty minutes or a quarter of an
hour might be regarded as the ultimate moment,--held, as if spellbound,
the speech both of Snowball and the sailor.
There were no other sounds to interrupt the silence of that solemn
moment,--at least none worthy of being mentioned. The slightest ripple
of the water, stirred by a zephyr breeze, as it played against the
bodies of the languid swimmers, might have been heard, but was not
heeded. No more did the scream of the sea-mew arrest the attention of
any of them, or if it did, it was only to add to the awe which reigned
above and around them.
In this moment of deep silence and deepest misery, a voice fell upon the
ears of the two swimmers that startled both of them, as if it had been a
summons from the other world. It sounded sweet as if from the world of
eternal joy. There was no mystery in the voice; it was that of the
Lilly Lalee.
The child, sustained upon the shoulder of the buoyant black, was in such
a position that her eyes were elevated over the surface of the water
several inches above those either of him who supported her, or the
sailor who swam by her side. In this situation she had a better view
than either; and, as a consequence of this advantage, she saw what was
visible to neither,--a dark object floating upon the surface of the sea
at no great distance from the spot where the exhausted swimmers were
feebly struggling to sustain themselves.
It was the announcement of this fact that had fallen with such startling
effect upon the ears of the two men, simultaneously rousing both from
that torpor of despair which for some time had held possession of them.
"Who you see, Lilly Lally? Who you see?" exclaimed Snowball, who was
the first to interrogate the girl. "Look at 'im 'gain,--look, good
lilly gal!" continued he, at the same time making an effort to elevate
the shoulder which gave support to his _protege_.
"Wha be it? I ain't de raff,--de _Catamaran_? Eh?"
"No, no," replied the child. "It isn't that. It's a small thing of a
square shape. It looks like a box."
"A box? how come dat? A box! what de debbel!"
"Shiver my timbers if 'tain't my old sea-kit," interrupted the sailor,
rearing himself aloft in the water like a spaniel in search of wounded
waterfowl.
"Sure as my name's Ben Brace it be that, an' nothing else!"
"Your sea-chess?" interrogated Snowball, elevating his woolly cranium
above the water, so as also to command a view. "Golly! I b'lieve it
am. How he come dar? You leff 'im on de raff?"
"I did," replied the sailor. "The very last thing I had my hands upon,
afore I jumped overboard. Sure I bean't mistaken,--ne'er a bit o' it.
It be the old kit to a sartainty."
This conversation was carried on in a quick, hurried tone, and long
before it ended,--in fact at the moment of its beginning,--the swimmers
had once more put themselves in motion, and were striking out in the
direction of the object thus unexpectedly presented to their view.