We must now go back to a solitary raft which bore Captain Everard, Harry
Tryon, and Jacob Tuttle tossing on the bosom of the wide Atlantic. The
sea, after the foundering of the frigate, had gone down, and several
casks had floated, which had been secured by the occupants of the raft.
One contained bread, another meat, and a third, more valuable still,
water. By these means there seemed a prospect that those on the raft
might preserve their lives. Still, as day after day passed by, and
their provisions decreased, the fate from which they had at one time
expected to escape, again appeared to approach them.
Eagerly they strained their eyes, in the hope of seeing a sail, but the
sun rose and the sun went down again and still they floated all lonely
on the ocean. The last drop of water was expended, not a particle of
food remained. They knew that a few days might probably end their
existence. Harry Tryon kept up his spirits, and endeavoured to sustain
those of Captain Everard, who felt acutely the loss of his ship. Harry,
however, had not made himself known to him, while Jacob Tuttle always
addressed him by the name of Brown. One of their number was sinking
fast, another poor fellow had become delirious. It seemed too likely
that they would drop off one by one till none remained upon the raft.
Again the weather became threatening. A dense mist lay over the water.
Few of those on the raft expected to see another daybreak. At length,
however, the dawn appeared, but still the mist surrounded them.
Suddenly it broke, and the bright sun burst forth and shed his rays on
the white canvas of a vessel close to them. They shouted and waved.
Their voices could not have been heard, but they were seen. The vessel
bore down upon them, and in a few minutes they were hoisted safely on
board.
The vessel was from the Saint Lawrence, homeward bound. They were
treated with kindness. The weather was fine. For many days they made
good progress. They were expecting in the course of another day to
sight the Irish coast. A gale sprung up. They were driven off the
coast. The brig was dismasted, and lay helpless on the tossing ocean.
Just when about to get up jury masts, a strange sail hove in sight. She
was a French privateer, and the battered vessel became her prize. The
officers of the merchantman, with Captain Everard and part of the
English crew, were taken on board the privateer; but several men, among
whom were Jacob Tuttle and Harry, were left on board the brig to assist
the prize-master in navigating her into port. Fortunately, however, on
her voyage the prize was separated from the privateer, and was
recaptured by a British man-of-war, to whose decks Harry and Tuttle,
with several other able-bodied seamen, were transferred, while the prize
was sent into Falmouth.
Harry soon discovered that all ships in the British navy were not alike,
and he and Tuttle often wished themselves on board the "Brilliant,"
under the command of Captain Everard.