"I can't go a step farther!" exclaimed Tom, dropping in his footsteps. "Good-bye all."

But the guards prodded him with their knives, and made him rise again. So he tottered along, until the column, marching in a sort of military order, and passing numerous sentinels, who challenged the leaders, and stopped them till they gave the countersign, entered suddenly on a large encampment of men, squatting on the ground amidst a circle of fires. There were no tents nor waggons to bear out the illusion, but otherwise the scene resembled a bivouac of some expeditionary force.

The brigands, as the English readily guessed these gentry to be, were some forty or more in number, and were principally Greeks and Albanians, clad in their picturesque dress—a short sleeveless jacket, coarse gaiters and shoes, a kilt of some rough texture, and a fez; while across their chests they carried a cartridge belt, and around their waist a sash, in which were stuck pistols and knives, not forgetting the long yataghan, that hung to their sides in the same fashion as they had noticed with the crew of the pirate felucca.

Amongst this band of miscreants, who thought less of murder than they did of killing a fowl, the survivors of the Muscadine suffered a species of moral torture for more than a week, being moved from place to place meanwhile, generally by night, as the brigands' encampment was shifted to evade the pursuit of the Turkish troops, who were wonderfully active in hunting the mountain gentry about—after Mr Suter's and Colonel Synge's release!

During this time, they heard nothing of the pirate chief, although the leader of the brigands—a gigantic Albanian named Mocatto—was continually engaged in pleasantly putting before Captain Harding what he and his countrymen might expect should the bank-draft remain unsigned after the corsair's return—of course acting under that worthy's instructions; pointing the moral of his remarks by practising the most unheard-of cruelties on such captives as the brigands brought in day by day, who were unable or unwilling to send to their friends to ransom them.

At last, one day, after witnessing the horrible exhibition of a poor Turk having his clothing saturated with paraffine oil, and then set fire to, the captain, urged more by considerations for the safety of Tom and Charley and his men, than for his own, gave in, and told Mocatto that he would sign the draft.

"That is good," said the brigand. "Demetri comes to-night, and you can sign it in the presence of the chief. If you do not, you know the consequences."

However, as it turned out, Captain Harding was fortunately able to keep his word to the corsair, when he said "he would see him hanged first" before he should attach his name to the money order.

That very same afternoon, a whole battalion of Turkish troops, sent out from Salonica, surrounded one of the mountains in which the brigands' stronghold was situated; and after desperate fighting, in which many men were killed on either side, compelled the surrender of Mocatto's band.

Demetri, the pirate chief, who was on his way, like Shylock, for his bond or pound of flesh from the captain, got captured amongst other prisoners, and was subsequently hanged along with them on the mountain side, as a warning to all dishonest folk.

Tom and Charley, and the captain, escaped scot free,—through a miracle almost, the brigands being attacked so suddenly that they were unable to murder their captives, as they invariably do when assailed by the troops—and so did the sailors along with them; all but Tompkins, who, as if in punishment for his treachery and cowardice, got shot by a passing bullet.

"It is a long lane that has no turning," as the proverb runs; and, to paraphrase it, it must be a long story which has no ending: so there must be an end to this.

The Muscadine could not be raised again. But Captain Harding got another ship, of which Tom Aldridge was appointed second officer, and Charley Onslow third, on probation; and the three, captain and youngsters, have had a voyage or two already. But they have not forgotten, nor are they likely to forget, their memorable adventures in their passage from Beyrout, nor Mohammed's old friend, "The Corsair of Chios."



STORY THREE, CHAPTER ONE.

DAVID AND JONATHAN; OR, LOST AT SEA.

CAUGHT IN A SQUALL.

"Dave!"

"Hullo!"

"What's that big black thing out there, tumbling about in the sea astern; is it a whale?"

"A whale, your grandmother!" sang out Davy Armstrong with a laugh, as he sprang on the taffrail, and holding on to the shrouds with one hand while he shaded his eyes with the other, peered about anxiously in the wake of the vessel in search of the object to which his attention had been drawn by his companion, a dark-haired lad who stood on the deck near him, and whose thin face and slender figure betrayed the delicate constitution of one brought up amidst the smoke and din of cities and busy haunts of men. David, on the contrary, was tall and well-built for his age, about sixteen, with blue eyes and curly brown hair, and the ruddy glow of health on his cheek; and being a middy of some two years' standing on board the Sea Rover, and full of fun and "larkishness," to coin a term, assumed a slightly protective air towards Johnny Liston, the son of one of the cabin passengers, between whom and himself one of those stanch friendships common to boyhood had sprung up during the voyage to Australia. "A whale, your grandmother, Jonathan!" repeated Davy Armstrong in a bantering tone, with all—as his companion thought he could detect—the conscious superiority of a sucking sailor over a raw landsman, in his voice. "Why, you'll be seeing the sea serpent soon if you look smart. Where is this wonderful thing you've discovered, Jonathan, my son? I'm blest if I can see it."

It need hardly be mentioned that, close friends as they had become in a short time, Johnny Liston rather resented David's patronage and implied superiority, and he hated his calling him "Jonathan," or addressing him as "my son," just as if he were as old as his father, instead of being just of an age, as he would indignantly remonstrate, which knowing, David mischievously made a point of so speaking to him on purpose to tease him, although in good part all the same.

"And you call yourself a sailor!" said Johnny Liston mockingly. "Why, there it is, as plain as a pikestaff, on the lift of that wave to the right there! Where are your eyes, stupid?"

"Why don't you say on the port quarter, you lubber?" answered David good-humouredly; "then a fellow would know what you meant! Oh, I see. I think it's a ship's boat floating bottom upwards; but I'll call the skipper's attention to it, and he'll soon tell us what it is. Johnny, my boy, you've got good eyesight, and deserve a leather medal for seeing that before I did, so I'll let you have the credit of it."

"Thanks, Dave," said the other ironically. "I'm glad you can allow for once in a way that you are not infallible, and that somebody else can see as well as yourself."

David meanwhile had crossed over the deck, to where the captain was conversing with a group of passengers, and having pointed out the object which his friend had discovered, a telescope being brought to bear soon proved it to be what his quick eye had already assured him it was, a boat pitching about bottom upwards, probably washed away from some Australian liner like themselves. There was no trace, however, to be seen of any one clinging to the keel, and time was too valuable and the wind too fair for the vessel to be put off her course merely to pick up an empty boat, which would most likely not be worth the trouble of hoisting on board; so they passed on, and it was soon hull-down in the distance.

The Sea Rover had made all her southern latitude, descending to the thirty-sixth parallel. She had passed the Island of Tristan d'Acunha, although at some distance off, a few days before; and now as she was well below the region sacred to the stormy Cape, and had run down the trades, her course was set due east for Melbourne, from which she was yet some thousands of miles away. The wind was fair, almost dead astern, although the sea was high; and as the ship was rather light, she rocked and rolled considerably, the waves washing over her decks, and occasionally running over the poop in an avalanche of water, that swept right forward and made any one hold on that did not wish to be washed off their feet. The sea had a most winterly look. It appeared like a vast hilly country with winding valleys, all covered with sloshy snow just melted, the extreme tops of the waves looking like frozen peaks in between, with the snow as yet not melted. The air, too, was as cold as winter, for it blew from the Antarctic ice; and the gusts came more and more frequent as evening closed in, raising the sea still higher in towering mountains, that rushed after the ship, which was going from ten to twelve-knots an hour under all plain sail, as if they would overwhelm her, striking our sides every now and then heavy ponderous blows, that made; her stagger from her course and quiver right down to her keelson. One gust of wind came all at once with such startling force that it split the main-topsail up like a piece of tissue-paper, and then the captain thought it was about time to take in sail.

"I guess we're going to have a rough spell of it, Jonathan," said Davy, as he moved away from his companion in obedience to the skipper's order, "All hands shorten sail!" and stationed himself at his post by the mizzen-halliards.

"Will it be serious, Dave?" asked the other, his pale face growing a little paler with apprehension.

"Pooh! no, nothing to speak of, only a squall, Jonathan; so don't be frightened, my boy."

A squall it was with a vengeance.

As the wind had been, right aft, the captain had kept the Sea Rover under her royals and topgallantsails, without even taking in a reef, in order to make the most of the twelve-knot breeze that was blowing: it was only at the chief officer's request that a little time before he had been induced to take in the stunsails; and now the wind seemed to expand so suddenly into a gale, that it was as much as the seamen could do to get the canvas off her before she was struck with the squall, that came up astern at the rate of fifty miles an hour, covering the heavens to windward with great black storm-clouds, and flying wrack like white smoke that drifted before it, and seemed to herald the heavier metal that lay behind that would come into action soon.

Everything was let fly, and only just in time; for, without the slightest warning, the wind shifted and struck her on the starboard quarter, and the vessel was almost taken aback, with the waves slipping in over the bows and on the starboard and port sides as she rolled heavily, borne down into the trough of the sea by the force of the gale, her timbers groaning, the spars creaking, blocks rattling, and the wind shrieking and whistling as it tore through the rigging and flapped the sails heavily against the masts with the noise of thunder, as if it would wrench them out of the ship bodily.

It was a scene of the utmost confusion while it lasted, with the men running about the deck here and there and pulling and hauling at the halliards and braces, and the captain yelling out stentorian orders through his speaking-trumpet, which nobody apparently understood or attended to; and Davy Armstrong, who had been up aloft to superintend the furling of the mizzen, royal, and topgallantsails, and close reefing of the topsail, was just congratulating himself on getting down on deck alongside of Johnny Liston safe once more, when another squall struck the ship from the opposite quarter, and she heeled over on her side until she buried her topsail-yards in the billows, broadside on, as if she were going to "turn the turtle."

"Oh!" exclaimed Johnny. "She's going over!"

"Not a bit of it," shouted out Dave in his ear, for the wind howled so that he could hardly make his voice heard. "She'll right in a minute. But that was a stiff blow!"

"Ay, stiffer than the last."

A heavy sea just at the same moment struck the rudder, which, through the ship's lying over on her side, had been partly raised out of the water, and whirled round the wheel with such force that the man who was steering was lifted off his feet, and as he grasped the spokes with desperation, was dashed down on the deck with an awful impetus, which knocked him insensible. Dave, followed by Johnny, immediately rushed aft, and took the helmsman's place, although it required all the strength of the two boys to hold on and save the ship from broaching-to, when her spars would have been swept off like ninepins, and a clean sweep made of her bulwarks, and everything on her decks fore and aft, if possible, she did not founder.

"Well done, my lads!" shouted out the captain. "Keep her to it," as he ordered a couple of men aft to help them. "Keep her to it, my lads, you'll be relieved in a jiffy. Hold on for the life of you, my lads; hold on!"

Their strength, however, was unequal to the struggle.

Another sea struck the rudder again almost in the same place, and David and Jonathan were floored in an instant.

Round span the wheel with mad velocity, now uncontrolled, jamming poor Davy's leg between the rudder beam and the wheel post, while Johnny lay sprawling on the deck, holding on like grim death to a stray end of the mizzen-halliard that had been cast loose from the cleats. Another turn of the spokes of the wheel, as the rudder was banged to and fro by the billows, and Davy's leg was released, although sadly crushed, and he was flung against the binnacle; and then a gigantic wave pooped the ship, coming in over the stern, and before the captain, or Johnny, or the men who were hurrying aft as rapidly as the motion of the ship would allow them, could stretch out a hand to save him, poor Davy was swept over the side to leeward, grasping tightly with the energy of despair, as he was carried away, a portion of the roof of the wheelhouse, which had been broken off by the same wave which washed him overboard, as well as part of the bulwarks.

"Oh, Dave, Dave!" exclaimed Johnny Liston, holding on to the mizzen-halliards still, and scrambling to his feet after the water flowed over him and the ship righted again, as he saw David torn away by the remorseless waters, and floating astern on the top of a great mountainous billow, his hands upheld as if imploring help.

"Oh, Dave, Dave!" exclaimed Johnny Liston, apparently panic-stricken for an instant, adding, as he turned half round towards the captain, "Why, his leg is broken, and he can't swim!"

And then, without another moment's hesitation, or a single reflection of the hopelessness of his task, or that he was endangering his own life as well, the brave boy, grasping hold of one of the life-buoys that hung close to the taffrail where he was supporting himself, as he watched the wave bearing Dave away, plunged into the sea to his comrade's rescue.

"Hold on, Dave, I'm coming!" he shouted out at the pitch of his voice, to encourage the sinking David.

And the next minute, ere any one could prevent him, he was over the ship's side, battling with the powers of the deep.



STORY THREE, CHAPTER TWO.



STORY THREE, CHAPTER TWOCHAPTER TWO.

A VAIN QUEST.

"Man overboard!"

That cry, which those who have once heard it will never forget, echoed far and wide through the ship, making itself heard above the dull roar of the sea, the whistling of the wind as it tore through the rigging, the creaking of the timbers, and the trampling of feet up and down the deck, as the crew bustled to and fro, slackening a sheet here, tightening a brace there, and preparing for emergencies, ready for anything that might happen.

"Man overboard!"

And, in an instant, every heart palpitated with one thought, every ear was on the qui vive, every eye turned, intently watching the captain as he gave the necessary orders for bringing the ship up to the wind—as it was far too squally and risky work for her spars and top-hamper to wear her, before she could pay off on the other tack—and retrace her course in her own wake to pick up the two boys, who were now out of sight.

"Stand by the lee braces, and be ready to slacken off on the weather-side! 'Bout ship! Up with the helm! Mainsail haul!" were some of the orders rapidly given and as rapidly attended to.

With a will, the great main-yard swung round to starboard, the Sea Rover paying off handsomely. And, in another moment, under her reefed topsails and topgallantsails, with her courses dropped, and her yards sharply braced up, she was going back on her track at even greater speed than she had been previously travelling towards Australia, the wind having shifted to the southwards and eastwards after the last squall, and being now well on her beam, which was the clipper's best sailing point.

There was a lookout on the fore-topmast crosstrees; but almost every one was looking out in the direction where some trace of David and Jonathan might be discovered. And the minutes seemed lengthened into hours as they anxiously peered into the mass of slatey-brown water in front and around topped with yeasty foam. But the sky was overcast with storm-clouds and the darkening of approaching night, and their horizon was now limited so that they could not see very far in advance of the Sea Rover's bows—not more than a mile at most.

Every voice was hushed on board the ship now, and only the humming of the wind and the swish of the water could be heard as she dived every now and then over her catheads into the waves, that fell in a cataract of spray on her forecastle and washed into her waist, while she dashed onward, gathering speed with every yard of progress that she made.

"Lookout, ahoy, there!" shouted out the captain to the man on the fore crosstrees. "Do you see anything of them yet?"

"Not a speck in sight," was the answer; and still the Sea Rover clove through the water on what they guessed to have been their former course, and the sky and the sea grew darker and darker and seemed to mingle together, gradually diminishing their area of vision.

"We must have passed the spot by this time," said the captain presently to the chief officer, when the ship had gone some two miles after coming about. "Send another lookout into the main-top; and you, Dawkins," addressing one of the hands standing near, "sky up here in the mizzen-rigging and see if you can see anything. Look well round to leeward as well as ahead, for we may have overrun them."

"Ay, ay," said the man as he scrambled up the shrouds, and quickly made his way, not merely into mizzen-top, but on the topgallant-yard, where he sat astride and scanned the horizon to his right and left, to windward and leeward of the vessel's wake.

"On deck there!" he hailed in a little time. He had the keenest sight of any man on board.

"Ay, ay!" answered the captain. "Speak out!"

"There is something to windward, two points on the weather-bow."

"How far?"

"About half a mile or more, sir; but it may be less."

"We must get her a couple of points nearer the wind," said the captain to the chief officer. "Clew up the courses, set the flying-jib, and let us get the mainsail on her, and see what she can do. Come, look smart and brace the yards round. Keep her helm up!" he added to the men at the wheel, lending them a hand as he spoke. "Hard!"

The Sea Rover leaned over, gunwales under, and made deep bows to the sea, pitching the water over her fore-yard, as, her head being brought round a couple of points more, she sailed almost in the wind's-eye, taking all that two men could do to steer her, besides the captain.

"Aloft there!" shouted the captain once more to the lookout men. "How's her head now? Does she bear towards the object, or is it still to windward?"

"Steady!" was the answer. "She's right for it now. Luff a bit, steady, it's right ahead."

"What is it? Can you see them?" cried the captain, eagerly peering into the distance himself.

"Looks like floating timber, sir. I can't see anybody as yet; it seems all awash."

A moment further of breathless suspense, and then those on deck could see for themselves what had attracted the lookout man's notice—a black object, bobbing up and down amidst the waves, one minute raised aloft on a billowy crest, the next hidden from view in a watery valley that descended, as it were, into the depths of the ocean.

It was now clear to windward on the weather-bow; and, every now and then, distinctly visible.

"Put the helm down, slack off the sheet!" cried the captain; and, as the Sea Rover rounded-to, with the floating object under her lee, it could be seen that it was the boat which David and Jonathan had perceived passing them, bottom upwards, just before they were struck by the squall. The vessel, therefore, must have gone much further back on their track than they had imagined, for the boat must have been three or four miles astern of the point at which the boys were washed overboard. She would of course have drifted farther than the floating wreckage, being higher out of water, but could not have made up more than a mile of the intervening distance.

It was a grievous disappointment to all on board, crew and passengers alike. They had made certain that it was the two boys clinging to the wreckage of the bulwarks and wheelhouse that had been carried away along with Davy; and the disappointment was all the greater because their hopes had been so cruelly raised.

"My boy, my boy!" sobbed Mr Liston, who stood with several of the other cabin passengers grouped around the captain on the quarter-deck watching in breathless suspense. "My boy, my boy! He is lost, he's lost! I shall never see him again!" and he wrung his hands in agony.

Poor, bereaved father! He had only that moment been made aware that his son was overboard, having been below when the accident happened to Davy, and only attracted on deck by the commotion. Johnny was his only child, his mother having died in giving him birth, and he was the apple of his eye. He would have jumped into the sea, too, when, he learnt what had happened, if he had not been prevented; and his grief was frantic.

"Cheer up, my dear sir!" said Captain Markham, as he gave orders for the ship to back across her course at right angles, and warned the lookout men aloft to renewed watchfulness. "We may pick them up yet. You know Davy Armstrong was holding on to something when he was carried away, and your gallant son took a life-buoy with him when he went to his rescue, so they can keep afloat till we overhaul them. Why, I was picked up myself once after I had been in the water for hours and the ship searching for me all the time, when I had been washed overboard like Davy."

The captain's sanguine anticipations, however, even if he really believed in them, were baseless.

The Sea Rover backed, and wore, and tacked again, sailing, within a radius of a few miles, in every possible direction the wind would let her, without finding any traces of the lost ones, or even coming across the pieces of wreckage, which the sombre tint of the sea and sky prevented their seeing; and then night came on, and they had to abandon their quest, although they burnt blue lights and cruised about the same spot for hours afterwards, in vain!

"Alas, dear captain, it is hopeless now!" exclaimed Mr Liston mournfully, with the resignation of despair, drawing away his gaze from the sea, and his head dropping on his breast in despondency.

He was standing almost alone on the deck, the majority of the passengers having gone below—for the wind was cold and boisterous, and the crew having retired forward to the forecastle excepting those on duty aft—a tall, thin, pale man, whom the calamity seemed to have aged ten years in that brief space of time, and bowed with care.

"Only a miracle could have saved them!" he said, as if speaking to himself; and then, turning to the captain, he added, "I suppose you must give them up now, and proceed with your voyage?"

"Yes, it is useless waiting any longer," said Captain Markham, sinking his voice in sympathy with the other. "Poor fellows, I'm afraid they've told the number of their mess long since! But if they are drowned, poor Davy was lost while doing his duty as a gallant sailor; and your son, my dear sir, lies in a hero's grave beneath the wave, for he sacrificed his life in trying to save that of his friend. It is some slight consolation, Mr Liston, to recollect that; and I don't think the recording angel above will have forgotten to log it down, either!"

And, as the hardy sailor pointed upwards with a reverent air to where one tiny twinkling star was peeping out from amidst the mass of fleeting shadowy clouds that still obscured the heavens and shrouded the horizon from view, he wiped away a tear from his eye with the back of his hairy hand, bidding the quartermaster a moment or two afterwards, in a strangely gruff tone quite unlike his usual mode of speech, to set the ship's course once more due east for Australia.

And the Sea Rover went on her way.



STORY THREE, CHAPTER THREE.

A STRUGGLE FOR LIFE.

Half-drowned by the avalanche of water which had swept him overboard, and just catching one faint glimpse of the hull of the ship through eyes that were blinded with the spray, as it swept away from him and left him struggling with the waves, although holding on still to the top of the wheelhouse which he had clutched in desperation as he was carried away, Davy thought he was dreaming when he heard the voice of his friend shouting out, as if in the distance, miles and miles away, "Hold on, Dave, I'm coming!"

"Nonsense," he reasoned with himself, amidst the pitiless lash of the billows, and the keenness of the wind that seemed to take the skin off his face and pierce through his wet clothing as he was one minute soused down into the water and then raised aloft again on his temporary raft exposed to the full force of the blast. "Nonsense! I'm drowning, I suppose, and this is one of those pleasant dreams which people say come to one at the last."

It was no dream, however.

After a little while, although it seemed ages to David, the voice sounded nearer.

"Hold on, Dave, old boy. I'm quite close to you now, and will reach you in a minute!"

"I can't be dreaming," thought David again, getting a bit over the feeling of suffocation which had at first oppressed him. "Jonathan's voice sounds too real for that, and I can see that I am adrift on the ocean, and resting on something. Oh, how my leg hurts me! I'll give a hail, and see whether it is Jonathan's voice or not that I hear. It must be him!"

"Ahoy, help, ahoy!" he sang out as loudly as he could; but he was already weak, his voice came only in a faint whisper to Jonathan, who imagined he must be sinking and he would be too late.

"Keep up, Dave, for goodness' sake," screamed out the latter in agony, making desperate exertions to reach him. "Don't give way! Hold on a second longer and you'll be safe!"

Although he was such a slight, delicate-looking little fellow, hardly doing justice in his appearance to his sixteen years, if there was one accomplishment in which Johnny Liston was a proficient, it was swimming. Living in the neighbourhood of Kensington Gardens, he had made a habit of going into the Serpentine every morning during the summer months, and sticking at it as long as the weather permitted, although he did not go to the lengths of some intrepid bathers, and have the ice broken for him in winter; and by constant practice, and imitating the best swimmers amongst whom he bathed, he had learned so much that he could compete even with professionals for speed and endurance, and made the best amateur time on record for so young a lad.

His practice now stood him in good stead; and he had, besides, an additional advantage, for having learned to swim in fresh water, and indeed never having essayed his powers in the sea, the unaccustomed buoyancy of the waves, which he now experienced for the first time, gave him a confidence and an ease which seemed surprising to him; he felt that he did not require the slightest exertion to keep afloat, even without the life-buoy, as he tested by letting go of it for a short time, and with it he was certain he could almost rival Captain Webb and swim for hours.

Of course it was rough work for a novice, paddling in such broken water; but after a few strokes he got used to it, and, by dint of diving under the swelling bosom of some of the more threatening crests, and floating over the tops of the others whose ridges were yet perfect, he made his way pretty rapidly towards the spot where he had espied David floating off.

The wind and the set of the sea were both against him, but the answering hail of the middy assured him he was proceeding in the right direction, and would be soon by his lost friend's side.

Another stroke or two, and as Johnny Liston rose on the crest of a huge mountain of water, which took him up almost to the sky, he saw below him the broken timbers of the bulwarks rolling about in the trough of the sea, and he thought they formed part of the wreckage on which David had been supporting himself, and that he had seen him on them.

His heart sank within him like lead, for no one was floating on the broken bulwarks now. Poor Dave must have gone.

Just at that moment, however, the middy's faint hail rang again clearly out above the noise of the wind and the sea, to assure him he was still above the surface, and restore his drooping energies.

"Ahoy! Help! Ahoy!"

He did not require to hail again, for, the next moment overtopping another billow, his friend Jonathan shot up alongside of him, and grasped him by the shoulder.

"Oh, Dave," he exclaimed. "Thank God I've got you safe. I thought I would never have found you."

David had partly clambered up on the top of the wheelhouse, and lay stretched out with his legs in the water.

He raised his head and turned his face as Jonathan got hold of him.

His emotion was too great for many words.

"And you jumped overboard to save me?" was all he said.

But his look was enough.

Johnny Liston had been swimming with one arm only thrust through the life-buoy, as he had been obliged to quit his hold of it each time he dived beneath the crest of a wave.

He now took it off, holding on to the wheelhouse-top, which sank down into the water on one side under the double weight of the two lads, elevating the other end in the air.

"Here, put this on, Dave," he said. "I brought it for you, and a precious job I have had to reach you with it."

"But you, Jonathan—I beg your pardon, old chap, I didn't mean to call you so. I know you don't like it."

"Never mind, Dave. If you think of me as Jonathan you may as well call me so. I shan't mind you doing so any longer I rather like it, old fellow, now, for our friendship will be like that of David and Jonathan that we read of in the Bible; you know it says that 'the soul of Jonathan was knit unto the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul.' That's just how I feel."

"What a chap you are to think of that now," said David admiringly, "with both of us bobbing about in the middle of the ocean, and the ship out of sight. But I won't have the life-buoy; what will you do without it?"

"Bless you, I can swim like a fish, Dave, and it was more a nuisance to me than a help; but, we can both hold on to it, you know, if it comes to the worst. How's your leg, Dave? I thought it was broken when you got it twisted in the wheel that time."

"Oh, it's all right," said David, kicking it out vigorously as he spoke. "The bone isn't quite broken, but it's very sore, and I suppose I'd have to lay up for it if I wasn't here;" and he grinned ruefully.

"Do you think the ship will pick us up?" said the other presently, losing some of his self-possession now that he had come up with David, and the motive for forgetting self and personal danger was wanting.

He was naturally timid unless nerved up by necessity.

"Oh, yes," said David, whose spirits rose with the occasion, and who in the presence of his friend forgot all the peril. "Captain Markham won't desert us, never fear; but you can't pull up a ship like a horse, you know, Jonathan, and it will take some time for the Sea Rover to tack about before she can fetch us. I wish, however, old chap, we had a little better raft than this to support us; the wheelhouse-top is hardly big enough for two, even with the buoy, which, though it can keep us afloat, won't raise us out of the water as we want."

"Why, I passed some wreckage a few yards off before I reached you," said his friend.

"Did you?" said David. "That must have been the gangway and part of the bulwarks that came away with me. I wish we had the lot here."

"Do you?" said Jonathan, as we must now call him, "then I'll soon fetch them," striking out as he spoke.

"Take care," said David; "and pray take the buoy with you."

But, the sea saved Jonathan the trouble of leaving his friend, for the very pieces of timber of which he had spoken made their appearance at that moment, floating down towards them from the summit of a wave, in whose valley they were; and Jonathan swam beyond them and pushed them before him till they were alongside the wheelhouse-top.

There was plenty of material to form a substantial raft with the addition of what they already had; and as Jonathan drew up the heavy mass alongside, David gave a shout of joy.

"Why," he exclaimed, "here is the cleat of the signal halliards come away with a piece of the taffrail, and we'll have enough rope to form all the lashings we want. Isn't that lucky?"

The young middy was handy enough in sailors' ways through his two years' experience of the sea; and—Jonathan aiding him under his direction—in a short time the loose timbers were lashed firmly together as a framework, with the roof of the wheelhouse fastened on the top, forming altogether a substantial platform, on which the two boys found themselves elevated a clear foot or more out of the water, and free from the cold wash of the waves, which was beginning to turn them blue.

"There," exclaimed David, "now we're comfortable, and can wait in patience till the ship overhauls us; she can't be long now."

Watching with eager eyes they saw the Sea Rover coming towards them, after a long, long while, as it seemed to them; but ere she had reached them, in spite of their shouts and hand-wavings, which they fancied must have been seen and heard on board, she went round on the other tack, and disappeared from their view, to their bitter disappointment and grief.

It was David now who was hopeful still. Jonathan seemed to have lost all that courage which had inspired him to leap into the sea to his friend's rescue, and was trembling with fear and hopeless despair.

The next time the Sea Rover came in sight, she was further off, and appeared to be sailing away from them, although they could see her tack about in the distance several times, as if searching for them still.

Then it gradually got darker, and night came on, enveloping them in a curtain of hazy mist that seemed to rest on the water, through which they could see far off the blue lights that were burnt on board the ship to show their whereabouts, although they were useless to them, as they could not reach her.

Even David began to lose hope now, but he still encouraged his companion.

"They'll not desert us, old fellow," he said, with a heartiness which he by no means felt. "The captain will lie-to, and will pick us up in the morning."

Jonathan was not attending to his words, however. He was shivering and shaking as if he had the ague, and David could hear his teeth chatter together with the cold, although the wind had gone down somewhat, and the sea no longer broke over them.

It was so dark that the two lads could scarcely see each other as they lay on top of the frail structure that separated them from the deep, clasping each other's hands.

Presently, in the fitful phosphorescent light of the water, some dark object seemed to float up alongside; and Jonathan gave vent to a scream of horror, that rang through the silence of the night.

"Oh, what is that?" he exclaimed.

And if David had not clutched him, he would have plunged headlong from the raft into the sea in his fright and agonised terror.



STORY THREE, CHAPTER FOUR.

ALONE ON THE OCEAN.

For hours the two boys remained in a sort of nameless terror, David feeling almost as frightened as Jonathan, although he concealed his fright in order to reassure his companion, with the terrible object that had excited their fear bobbing up and down alongside them, and occasionally coming with a crash against their frail raft, that threatened to annihilate it and send them both into the water, when it would be all over with them.

The night was pitch dark, for the mist that hung over the surface of the deep appeared to increase in intensity, and they could not see even the faint glimmer of a star to cheer them; while all they could hear was the lapping of the waves as they washed by them, and the ripple and swish of some billow as it overtopped its crest, and spent its strength in eddies of circling foam, as David could imagine—for the darkness rendered everything invisible now, even the platform on which they were supported, and the unknown companion beside them, which might be anything, and their very hands when held before their faces.

Some time after midnight, when David and Jonathan had gone through a purgatory of dread, not knowing what might happen to them any moment, the moon rose gradually from the horizon, shining faintly through a veil of clouds that almost obscured its light, and the morbid terror of the two boys was at once dispelled on their being able to perceive what it really was that had occasioned them such alarm.

"Goodness gracious me, Jonathan!" exclaimed David, with a tone of glad surprise in his voice, which at once aroused his friend, who was lying face downwards on the raft, with his head buried in his crossed arms. "Why, what do you think it is that has frightened us so? I'm blest if it isn't that very identical boat that you saw in the afternoon passing by the Sea Rover! Isn't it providential, old chap, that after all these hours we should come across it again? Thank God for it, Jonathan," he added more earnestly a moment afterwards; "it may save both our lives in case the ship is unable to find us and pick us up!"

Yes, there it was, a long black boat, the cutter of some vessel, that had been washed away from the bows, as it was twenty feet long and more, floating keel uppermost, alongside the raft, although buried somewhat deep in the water.

The night had no longer any terrors for them; and, although they waited anxiously for the sun to rise to see whether the Sea Rover was still in sight—for the moon was frequently obscured by clouds, and its light too intermittent and deceptive for them to scan the ocean by—they did not dream of despairing now, even if their worst suspicions should be realised, and the ship have left them to their fate, as the boat offered them a tangible means of rescue, which the raft did not; albeit it had saved their lives for the while, and served as a "pis-aller."

Morning came at last, first tinging the horizon to the eastwards with a pale sea-green hue, that deepened into a roseate tinge, and then merged into a vivid crimson flush, that spread and spread until the whole heavens reflected the glory of the orb of day, that rose in all its might from its bed in the waters, and moved with rapid strides towards the zenith, the crimson colour of the sky gradually fading away, as the bright yellow sunlight took its place, and illuminated the utmost verge of the apparently limitless sea; but the Sea Rover was nowhere in sight, nor was the tiniest speck of a distant sail to be seen on the horizon!

"Never mind, Jonathan," said David, cheering up his companion; "you mustn't be disappointed: it is only what I expected, although I didn't tell you so before! Now that we have the boat, you know, we are not half so badly off as we thought ourselves at first. We've no reason to despair!"

And then, sailor-like, he immediately began to overhaul their God-sent gift, to see whether it was all a-tanto and seaworthy, without losing any more time in vain repinings, and scanning the ocean fruitlessly for the Sea Rover; Jonathan sitting up, and beginning to be interested, as he regained his courage and self-reliance, through his companion's words and the warmth of the sun combined, and lost that feeling of hopeless despair that seemed to overwhelm him and weigh him down since they lost sight of the ship for the last time on the previous night.

"It must have been adrift a good while," said David, clambering on to the keel of the boat, and getting astride on it. "The bottom is quite slimy. Oh, my poor leg, how it hurts! I forgot all about that squeeze I had between the rudder beam and the wheelhouse, for a moment. Never mind," continued the brave boy, hiding his pain from his companion, who winced in sympathy; "it was only a little wrench I gave it, and it has passed off now. But pray hold on tight to the stern, Jonathan—you can catch hold of it by the rudder-hinge—or else I'll be parting company, and going off on a cruise by myself."

Working himself along with his hands and knees on the slippery surface of the boat, he felt the exposed portion all over, and as far under water as his arm could reach down, when he proceeded to give his opinion like a consulting surveyor.

"The timbers are all sound, old chap," he said, "at least, as well as I can make out; and not a hole anywhere that I can see. I can't tell for certain, however, till we right her properly, and get the water out of her; and I think we'll find our work cut out for us to do that, Jonathan, my boy."

"I'm sure I don't see how we can manage it," replied his friend despairingly.

"Oh, don't you?" answered David cheerfully, his spirits rising with the sense of action and the feeling of having something to do, and as happy and unconcerned as if he were safe on board the Sea Rover. "Oh, don't you, Master Jonathan? Then allow me to inform you, as Dick Murphy says, that there are more ways of killing a pig besides hanging him; and that I see a way to our righting that boat."

"How?" inquired the other.

"I'll soon show you," said David. "But I guess and calculate it will take a pretty considerable time I reckon, and you'll have to help us, sirree."

"Of course I will," said Jonathan, laughing at David's apt imitation of an American passenger on board their ship, who had unwittingly been the source of much amusement to the two boys, with his drawling voice, and habit of speaking through his nose in regular "down eastern" fashion.

"Well, bear a hand, old cock," said David jocularly, pleased at seeing Jonathan laugh again, and getting off the boat's keel gingerly on to their raft again. "The first thing we have to do, Jonathan, is to try and raise the bow of the craft on top of these timbers here—or rather, sink down the end of the wheelhouse roof so that it may get under the boat. We can do it easy enough by both going to the extreme point of it and bearing it down by our united weight; but mind you don't slip off, old boy. Hold on tight."

It was no easy task, as the motion of the waves hindered them, and the raft was lifting and falling as the surges rolled under them; besides which, the boat was heavy, and the suction of the water seemed to keep it down and resist their efforts.

However, they persevered, and, after innumerable attempts and failures, succeeded at length in getting part of the bow of the cutter on to the end of the raft, which it almost submerged, although it was itself lifted clean out of the sea.

"So far, so good," said David, puffing and blowing like a grampus with his exertions, and Jonathan following suit. "We'd better have a spell off for a bit; the heaviest part of the work is yet to come."

"Don't you think," said Jonathan presently, after a rest, "that it would be a good plan to float her stern round at right angles to the raft? Then the waves would force her on to it, almost without our help."

"Right you are," said David. "Two heads are always better than one!"

"You stop where you are," said Jonathan. "You know your leg is bad; and besides, I'm more at home in the water than you are, although you're a sailor. I'll jump in, and soon turn her stern round, while you hold on to the bow, so that it doesn't slide off and give us all our trouble over again to get it back."

So saying, he let himself down into the sea, and catching hold of the aftermost end of the boat, which was now much deeper down in the water, owing to the bow being raised, struck vigorously with his free hand, swimming on his side, and soon managed to slew it round so that it pointed athwart-wise to the raft.

"Now, David," he said, when this was accomplished, "if you'll come into the water too,—I'm sorry to trouble you, old man, but I can't do it all by myself—and put your shoulder under the other gunwale of the boat, the same as mine is under this, and hold on to our staging at the same time, we'll be able by degrees to lift and drag it bodily on to the raft, as the send of the sea, as you call it, will assist us."

"Why, Jonathan, you ought to be a sailor," said David admiringly. "It's the very thing to be done, and just what I was going to suggest." And he also slid off into the sea, taking particular care of his wounded leg, and went to his companion's assistance, placing himself in the position he had advised.

The two boys exerted themselves to the utmost, held on tightly to the raft as they "trod the water," as swimmers say, with their feet, lifting the boat an inch or two at a time with each wave that rolled towards them, until, little by little, they got one end well upon the raft, which it sank quite a foot in the water, when they clambered out of the sea and got on to it, too.

"Now," said David, "comes the tug of war, to get the boat over, right side uppermost."

"And then," rejoined Jonathan, "we'll have to bale her out. How will you manage that?"

"With our boots, to be sure," was the prompt answer.

"Oh yes," said Jonathan, "I quite forgot those. Let us get her over at once; it is cold work standing thus in the water; and we may as well be comfortable as not!"

After a long and weary struggle, during the course of which the boys were in the water, with their weight hanging on to the keel, and endeavouring to turn it over—they succeeded at last, almost when they were half inclined to give up the task as hopeless.

Then when the boat was righted, they pushed it off the raft, and David kept it in proper position, while Jonathan, taking off one of his boots, baled away until he was tired; David relieving him, and he taking his place in keeping the boat steady. It was slow work, but it was done in time; and when it was half emptied of its contents, they both climbed in, and being now able to bale together, they soon had it clear, and floating bravely like a cork.

Much to their joy, it did not leak a bit; and after having satisfied themselves on that point, they went on to examine their craft in detail. It was a smart ship's cutter, which had evidently, as David had surmised, been washed off the bows or davits of some sea-going vessel through being carelessly fastened, for it was perfectly uninjured, and, to the delight of the boys, it had its proper oars and a mast and sails lashed fore and aft under the thwarts. There was also a locker in the stern-sheets which was locked, and on David prising it open with his clasp knife, it was found to contain some fishing-line and hooks. A small cask, or breaker, was also locked in the bow of the boat, and this was found to contain water, a trifle impregnated by the sea, and slightly brackish, but still quite drinkable. It need hardly be mentioned what a great boon this was to them, as they had begun to be afflicted with thirst as the sun's heat grew more powerful towards mid-day.

"Oh, David," exclaimed Jonathan presently, from his seat in the stern of the boat, where he had been giving way to his thoughts while his friend was bustling about in the bows, stepping the mast, and seeing that the sail and tackle answered properly, "God has been very watchful over us!"

"Yes," replied the other, "we have much to be thankful for, old man, and I am for one, as I've no doubt you are; but still I don't see why we should remain here, as there is no chance of the Sea Rover coming back for us now, and there is a good southwesterly breeze blowing just on purpose for us."

"Why, in what direction would you steer?"

"Nor'-east, to be sure, and we'll fetch the Cape of Good Hope in time, besides the chance of falling in the track of passing vessels."

"Have you any idea of where we are, David?"

"Well, the ship yesterday was in latitude 36 degrees and something, and just nearing the longitude of Greenwich, which is neither east nor west, as you know, so I suppose we're about a thousand miles or so off the Cape."

"Good heavens, David! a thousand miles!"

"It isn't such a tremendous long way, Jonathan. We can run it easily, if the wind lasts from the same quarter, in about eight days; and if we don't quite fetch the Cape, we'll reach some part of South Africa at all events—that is, if we don't come across the track of a ship, and get picked up before then."

"But even eight days, David. What shall we do for food all that time?" said Jonathan, who was by no means of so hopeful a disposition as his friend.

"Don't you recollect, old fellow," rejoined David, "what you said just now, of God watching over us? As He has done so up to now, don't you think He'll look after us still, and provide some means by which we shall not starve?"

"Yes," said the other, feeling the rebuke, "you are quite right, David; and I was wrong to doubt His mercy. But, oh, I do feel so hungry!"

"So do I," replied David. "But we'll have to grin and bear it for a while, old chap, as we are not near old Slush's caboose, on board the Sea Rover, and I don't see any grub anywhere in sight. However, Jonathan, we haven't felt the pangs of real hunger yet, and needn't begin to shout out before we're hurt. Let us do something—make sail on the boat and abandon our old raft, which has served us a good turn—and we'll wear off the edge of our appetites."

David's advice was followed. Taking only the life-buoy with them, they cast loose from the raft almost with feelings of regret, for it had saved their lives, and it seemed like ingratitude to leave it there tossing alone on the surface of the deep now that they had no further service for it; and, hoisting the cutter's "leg-of-mutton" sail, and steering with an oar, as the boat's rudder was missing, they ran before the wind, David directing their course, as nearly as he could possibly guess to the north-east, by the sun, which had now passed the meridian.

"I say, Jonathan," said David, after a time, when they had quite lost sight of the raft, and must have run some miles, "just rummage in the locker again, and see if their is anything else we passed over in our first search?"

"No," said Jonathan, after going down on his knees and looking into every corner of the receptacle with his fingers, so that not a crevice was left unsearched, "nothing but the fishing-lines."

"Well, let us have them out and see if we can catch anything."

"But we've got no bait."

"Oh, we can tie a bit of my red flannel shirt or your white one to the hooks. Fish bite at anything at sea, if they can only see it. Hullo!" added David, "I didn't see that before."

"What?" exclaimed Jonathan.

"Why, the name of the vessel to which this boat belonged. There it is, painted there on the gunwale as large as life, the Eric Strauss. I suppose she was a German ship, but I never heard of her."

The two boys got out the lines presently, attaching small pieces of fluttering cloth to the hooks, and heaved them overboard, dragging them in the wake of the boat some distance astern; but they caught nothing that day, nor did they even see the sign of a fin. A whale travelling by himself, and not accompanied by a "school" as usual, was the only solitary denizen of the deep that they perceived.

It was the same the next day, the boat sailing in a north-east direction as well as David could judge, for the wind remained in the same quarter, from the southward and westward. But he had some difficulty in keeping her on her course at night, owing to the absence of the north star, which is never seen south of the equator, although he could manage to steer her all right by the sun during the day.

When the third morning broke, the boys were starving with hunger, and could have eaten anything. They even tried to gnaw at bits of leather cut out of their boots, but they were so tough and sodden from their long immersion in the sea that they could make nothing of them.

If it had not been for the breaker of water which they found providentially in the boat, they felt that they must have died.



STORY THREE, CHAPTER FIVE.

STARVATION AND PLENTY.

"Look, David," said Jonathan, when the sun had risen well above the horizon on that third morning.

He was sitting down in the bow of the boat, looking out almost hopelessly for the sight of some sail, while David was in the stern-sheets steering.

"There's a big flock of birds right in front of us. Oh, if we only could catch one! I could eat it raw."

"Well, I don't think we'd wait for the cooking," said his companion philosophically, although he put the helm down a bit so that he might likewise see the birds that Jonathan had spied.

"What can they be so far out at sea?" inquired the latter.

"Molly hawks, to be sure," said David promptly. "We must be getting into the latitude of the Cape."

"Why, they're as big as geese," said Jonathan, when the boat got nearer them. "But some are quite small; are they the young ones?"

"No," replied David; "those are the cape pigeons, which generally sail in company with the others, and not far off at any rate. When you see them close, as I've seen them scores of times, and as you'll be able to if we catch one, as I hope we shall, you'll find they are very like a large pigeon, only that they have webbed feet; and they always seem plump and fat. See, their feathers are white and downy, while their heads are brown and their wings striped with the same colour, giving them the appearance, if you look down on them from a ship, of being large white and brown butterflies, with their large wings outspread. Draw in your line a bit, Jonathan, and let the white stuff on the hook flutter about in the air; perhaps one of them will grab at it thinking it's something good. It's our only chance."

No angler, not even the celebrated Izaac Walton, ever angled more industriously than the two boys did for the next hour, trying to attract one of the birds, which, both molly hawks and cape pigeons, hovered about the boat all the time, making swoops every now and then down into the sea.

They were too knowing, however, to accept David's fictitious bait, as a fish would probably have done.

One look at it was quite sufficient for them; first one and then another wheeling round and coming nearer the surface of the water to inspect the inducement offered them, and flying off again in disgust.

At last, just as a group of three of the cape pigeons, which were the most inquisitive of the lot, stooped down over the strip of red flannel attached to David's hook, he gave it a jerk and it caught somehow or other in the bird's foot or leg, and he pulled it in, squeaking and fluttering all the time, its companions circling round it in alarm, and cawing in concert over its misfortune.

"Hurrah!" exclaimed Jonathan, as David hauled in his prize, flapping vigorously, over the gunwale in triumph; and he stretched out his hand to take hold of it.

"Look out, and stand clear a moment," shouted out his friend. "Those cape pigeons have a nasty habit of throwing up everything they have in their stomachs on to you as soon as you catch them. There, you see. I suppose it's a means of protection given them by nature, the same as the savoury perfume of the American skunk."

"He's lucky to have anything to bring up," said Jonathan drily. "It is more than we could do, I'm sure. There's plenty of him to eat, however, old fellow," he added, when the bird had disgorged its last feed, "and I vote we pluck off his feathers at once and begin business."

"All right," said David, giving the bird a rap on the head with the steering oar, which effectually stayed any further proceedings on its part. "Pipe all hands to dinner."

Both the boys said afterwards, when detailing their experiences during that voyage in an open boat across the ocean when they were lost at sea, that they never before or since ever enjoyed such a meal in their lives as that cape pigeon, which they plucked, and divided into two equal portions, eating the raw flesh, share and share alike, with the greatest gusto, even licking up afterwards the blood that dropped from it on to the thwarts.

The repast gave them new life and spirits, and from that hour the tide of their affairs seemed to flow more favourably, as shortly afterwards they caught a molly hawk, which they carefully put away in the boat's locker along with the water, which David was very particular in allowancing out, giving Jonathan and himself only a small quantity twice a day out of a measure he had made by cutting off the toe part of one of his boots.

Towards the afternoon of the same day the heavens grew dark right ahead, a big black cloud spreading across the horizon like a great curtain, and mounting gradually till it hid the sun from view.

"We're going to have a squall, Jonathan," said David. "You must look out sharp to shift the sheet when I tell you, and unstep the mast, if necessary, the very moment I say, mind!"

"Right you are," answered the other, who had now lost all that nervousness for which David used to chaff him when on board the Sea Rover. "You only give the word, old man, and you'll find me all there."

The squall, however, passed away without touching them, having vented its force in some other quarter; but the wind veered round to the eastwards, much to David's disgust, as he had to let the boat's head fall off from the course he wished to steer, and, strange to say, the great black cloud they had first seen seemed still to face them and keep right ahead, although their direction had been altered—it looked, really, just as if standing like a sentry to bar their progress.

"I don't know what it can mean," said David anxiously. "The wind has shifted, so why can't it shift too?"

"It doesn't appear so big as it was," observed Jonathan. "It is gradually narrowing at the bottom as it spreads out on top. And look, David, the end of it, close to the sea, comes down into a point just like a thread."

Presently, as the boat ran nearer towards the cloud, which seemed to rest stationary over the water, they could see that the sea was churned up around it in a state of violent commotion, and they could hear a peculiar sucking noise rumbling in the air at the same time.

"I tell you what it is," said David; "although I've never seen one before, it must be a waterspout, and we'll have to give it a wide berth. Look out, Jonathan, for the sheet; I'm going to put the helm up and bring the boat about on the other tack."

Almost as soon as the cutter turned off at an angle from the direction of the waterspout, although not absolutely going away from it, as the boys were interested in the sight, David uttered another exclamation.

"Gracious goodness, Jonathan!" he ejaculated. "Look, if there isn't a whale there! And he is going slap at it, as if he is going to bowl it over."

It was true enough; but, whether the leviathan of the deep had been caught in the maelstrom of the waterspout, or had gone towards it from choice, they could not tell. There he was, however, at all events, circling round in the eddy of the sea at the foot of the cloud, and sending up columns of spray every now and then with the flukes of his tail, as they came down with a bash on the water, like the sound of a Nasmyth steam-hammer.

Almost as soon as the boy spoke, the whale appeared to raise itself up on end, as they could see nearly the whole length of its body; there was a tremendous concussion; and then, with a report like thunder, the waterspout burst, falling around the boat in the form of heavy rain.

"I say," said Jonathan, when the unexpected shower had ceased, "it's an ill wind that blows nobody good. Look, if there are not a number of dead fish which the waterspout must have sucked up. How thankful we ought to be! there is enough to last us ever so long and keep us from starvation."

"You are light," said David. "Let us kneel down and thank God for His mercy and care in watching over us!"

And, after they had prayed fervently to Him who had guarded them through all the perils of the deep, and now showered on them a supply of food almost from heaven, they set to work and collected all the fish they could see floating about on the surface of the sea, David saying that they were bonetas and skipjacks, and capital eating, as he stored them in the locker.

"We'll cut them open and dry them in the sun by and by," he added. "It's too much overcast to do it now; and it's so rough with the spray dashing over us that they would only get wet instead of dry."

Soon after the waterspout had burst, the boat's head had been brought round again as near to the northward as the easterly wind would permit; but, towards evening, as the breeze grew stronger and stronger, and the sea rose in mountainous billows, just the same almost as on the day on which they bade good-bye to the Sea Rover, they were obliged to let her off a point or two and scud before the gale.

It was a day of surprises; for, just as night was closing in, Jonathan— who took the station of lookout man in the fore-sheets, while David steered, being more at home with the rudder oar than his friend— observed something white, standing out in relief against the dark background of the horizon, which was piled up with a wrack of blue-black storm-clouds.

"I say, David!" he shouted out, "what is this white thing in front—is it another waterspout, or a squall, or what?"

"I'll soon tell you," said David, standing up in the stern-sheets to get a better view. But he had no sooner looked than he dropped down again in his seat as if he had been shot, and turned as pale as a ghost, as he exclaimed hysterically, half laughing, half crying, "A sail! a sail!"



STORY THREE, CHAPTER SIX.

IN EXTREMITY.

"What? a ship really?" said Jonathan, sharing the other's excitement. "Oh, I'm so glad, so glad!"

"Yes," said David, recovering a bit from his hysterical fit, and speaking in a more collected manner. "But she's crossing our course, and if she does not see us and take in sail, I'm afraid we won't be able to catch her up!"

What was a gale to those in the cutter, with a gunwale hardly a foot above the surface of the water, was only just a fair wind to the full-rigged ship which was sailing on a bowline away from them almost hull-down on the horizon, with all her canvas spread that could draw, to take advantage of the breeze.

The boat's head was pointed right towards the vessel, whose course was nearly at right angles to theirs, and David put the helm up to bring them nearer the wind so that they might intercept her; but the cutter dipped so much in the waves, and shipped such a lot of water, that he had to let fall off again and run free, much to his mortification, as the stranger was steadily ploughing her way ahead; and, proceeding in the direction they did, they would fetch far to leeward of her.

"Oh, it's cruel," said Jonathan, "to sail away like that and leave us!"

"We mustn't accuse them wrongfully," said David, who, of course, was more versed in nautical matters. "Ships when far at sea don't keep much of a look-out, as they would have to do in the channel or near land. And, besides, old fellow, you must recollect that although we can see her plainly, we to those on board would appear but the tiniest speck in the distance, if we were seen at all, and would be taken for a wandering albatross, or one of those Molly hawks like that we caught this morning. They don't see us, evidently, or they would take in sail."

Jonathan, however, would not give up hope, but continued to wave his shirt—which he had taken off for the purpose—in the bow of the boat, until she lessened as she drew away, and finally, disappeared below the horizon as night came on with hasty footsteps—as it always does in southern latitudes—shutting out everything from their gaze.

The two boys were bitterly disappointed.

Up to the time of their sighting the ship they had been almost contented with their lot, for the fear of starvation, which had threatened them, had passed away when their hunger had been appeased by the cape pigeon that David had captured, and they subsequently secured another bird, besides the half-dozen fish or so that had been brought within their reach by the waterspout; to add to which the weather had not been hot enough to cause them to make such inroads on their stock of water—which David had judiciously apportioned from the first—as to arouse any dread of thirst, which is far worse than want of food to shipwrecked mariners.

It was the fact of the means of escape from their perilous position having been so unexpectedly brought near them, and as suddenly taken away, that deprived them of their courage and hopefulness for a time, and made them forget the Eye that was watching over them, and the hand that had already so miraculously helped them when they seemed to be at death's door! The weather, however, did not allow them to give way to despondency, much as they might have been inclined, for, as night came on, the darker it grew, the wind and sea increasing so that David had an onerous task to steer the boat in such a manner as to prevent her being swamped; while Jonathan was as continually busy in baling out the heavy seas that, partly, lurched in over the gunwale, first on the port side and then to starboard, as the cutter rocked to and fro in her course, tearing madly up and down the hills and valleys formed by the waves, and sometimes leaping clean out of the water from one mountainous ridge to another.

And thus, the weary hours passed till morning, without giving them a moment's rest from their anxious labour, the constant fear of being overset and swallowed up by the tiger-like billows that raced after them banishing the feeling of fatigue, and making them forget for the while their disappointment.

When the sun rose, for the fourth time since they had been left deserted on the deep, the boys were completely worn out.

David's leg, too, had got worse; whether from the exposure or not they could not tell, but it had swollen up enormously, and he could hardly move; so, Jonathan had to take his place at the steering oar, and act under his directions carefully, as the sea was still very high, and it required critical judgment and a quick eye to prevent the boat being taken broadside on by any of the swelling waves that followed fast in their track, raising their towering crests and foaming with impotent fury as far as the eye could reach, astern, and to their right hand and their left, while in front the waters sometimes uplifted themselves into a solid wall, as if to stop their way. With mid-day, came a change of scene.

The wind gradually died away, and there fell a dead calm, while the sea subsided in unison; although a sullen swell remained, in evidence of old Neptune's past anger, and to show that he had a temper of his own when he liked to use it—a swell that rocked the boat like a baby's cradle, and flapped the loose sail backwards and forwards across their heads, in such a disagreeable manner that David suggested their hauling it down; which they did, the boat not rolling half so much without its perpendicular weight, while it was pleasanter for them.

"I tell you what, Dave," suggested Jonathan after a while to his friend, who was stretched out on the stern-sheets, resting his wounded leg on a seat, "I think if you'd let me bandage your thigh with a strip of my shirt, and keep it soaked with water, the evaporation of the sun would take down the swelling and make it feel better?"

"So it would probably," he assented; "and at the same time, Jonathan, get those fish and the bird out of the locker. I had almost forgotten them;—I suppose, because I don't feel hungry yet! We will skin them and split them in two: and if we expose them spread out on top of the sail, which you can stretch across the thwarts, our old friend can cook them while he is acting as my physician."

Jonathan, who had been tearing a couple of long strips off his shirt, and binding them round David's leg while he was speaking, now soused the bandages with sea water, taking it up in the one uninjured boot which he had kept for baling purposes, and then propped it up in an easy position, so that it should be directly exposed to the rays of the sun, which was now almost vertical, and hotter than they had yet felt it. He then unstepped the mast, and arranged the sail like an awning over the rest of the boat, serving to shelter themselves—with the exception of David's leg, of course—from the heat, which was decidedly more comfortable, and act as a table for their culinary arrangements.

On counting them, which they had not done before, they found they had thirteen bonetas and skipjacks, beside the molly hawk, which they determined to eat while it was fresh; and then would have sufficient food, as the fish would keep perfectly when dried, for quite that number of days—a lucky number as Jonathan said, as it was "a baker's dozen," and certainly not an even one.

"An unlucky one, you mean," said David. "They say that when thirteen people sit down at table together one is sure to die before the year is out."

"That will only apply to the fish," said Jonathan laughing, "and they're dead already, and will be eaten soon. And talking of that, Dave, I think it's about dinner-time; what say you? My clock here," patting his stomach as he spoke, "warns me that it needs winding up."

"All right, I feel peckish myself," answered David, who was skinning and cutting open the fish leisurely with his clasp knife, which he could do easily without removing from his position or shifting his leg, while Jonathan cleaned them and washed them in the sea over the side of the boat preparatory to spreading them out on the top of their awning to dry in the sun. "Just wait till I finish this last beggar, and then I'll tackle Miss Molly Hawk, and we'll begin. Do you know, Jonathan, I don't think birds are half so bad eaten raw? I did enjoy that cape pigeon yesterday."

"So did I," said the other. "It makes me hungrier to think of it. Look alive, old boy, or I'll start on one of these fish just to keep my hand in."

"No, you won't, or your teeth either, you cannibal," said David jocularly. "I'm captain, and purser too, and I'm not so extravagant as to serve out two courses for dinner. Chaffing aside," he added more seriously, "we'll have to be rigidly economical, Jonathan, for we can't tell how long it may be before we fall in with a ship or reach land, and we've already experienced something of what the pangs of starvation are like, though, thank God, we were not put so severely to the test as some have been! I wish, old fellow, we were as well off for water as we are for grub. I don't think there is a pint more in the breaker, now that we've had that last drink, and I'm sure we've not been very prodigal of it, and I've measured it out carefully every day."

"Perhaps it will rain," said Jonathan cheerfully—the sight of the molly hawk, which David had dexterously plucked and cut in two, the same as he had done the cape pigeon on the previous day, making him feel ravenously hungry, and limiting all his considerations to the present, instead of his being impressed with their future needs, as was the case with his more reflective companion, "Perhaps it will rain, David. 'Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof.' Let us set to work; I'm starving!"

The appetites of the boys being hearty, they finished every scrap of the bird, which, raw as it was, tasted like roast goose to them, although it was not nearly so large as it had appeared with all its feathers on; and then both lay down in the boat and had a hearty sleep, the first they had had without interruption since they left their bunks for the last time on board the Sea Rover.

Poor fellows! they had need of rest, for the calm lasted a week, during which time their water ran out, and for more than two days they had not a single drop, although they reduced their allowance to such an infinitesimal quantity that their final draught did not amount to more than a minim.

They now endured all the agonies of thirst, their diet of dried fish making them feel it worse; and it was as much as David could do to prevent Jonathan from drinking the sea water and losing his senses, as he would have done—like many others who would not control their inclinations, but insisted on having it, and afterwards went mad and died.

Then, in the very height of their sufferings, a storm of rain came on which half filled the boat with water, giving them plenty to drink, but spoiling the remainder of their fish, so that they had to throw them overboard.

After the rain the wind sprang up again, and the sail was once more hoisted, David trying to keep the boat as nearly in the direction of the coast of South Africa as he could guess, during the day steering by the sun; but at night she went as the breeze willed, and so it continued for days, the boys getting weaker and weaker through starvation, although they had saved plenty of water in their cask to assuage the pangs of thirst, during which time they never saw a bird or a fish to which they could get near.

They sighted several ships, but they were too far off to attract their notice; and when, finally, a sudden squall in the night blew away their mast and sail, and left them tossing helplessly on the ocean, starving and worn out with fatigue, they gave up all hope, and lay down in the bottom of the boat to die—Jonathan being the first to succumb.

"Good-bye, Dave!" said he, raising himself with a feeble effort.

"Good-bye, Jonathan!" said the other, grasping his companion's hand, as he thought, for the last time.

"I think I am going to die," continued Jonathan: "my head is spinning round, and I feel faint. I will lie down a bit until the end comes. Good-bye, Dave, once more!"

And he sank down again into a restless sleep, the other following his example a moment or two afterwards; first giving one last haggard glance around the horizon—on which not a single sail appeared in sight—as if bidding it an eternal farewell.



STORY THREE, CHAPTER SEVEN.

RESCUED.

"Boat ahoy!"

The two boys might have been asleep for hours only, or insensible for days, they never knew for certain which, and nobody else could inform them; but that shout ringing in their ears awoke them, with a thrill of agony that it might be merely a dream of their disordered imagination.

One look, however, satisfied them to the contrary, when they painfully raised themselves into a sitting posture in the bottom of the boat— which they could hardly do by reason of their weakness—holding on to the gunwales on either side as they dragged up their attenuated bodies, and directing their sunken eyes, which rolled with incipient delirium, to the point from whence the hail came.

They could have screamed for joy, but their voices failed them, and their emotion found relief in tears and stifling sobs.

A large ship lay to about a hundred yards off; and a boat, which had evidently just been lowered from its side, was being pulled rapidly towards them.

As soon as the boat came alongside, the men in her, who appeared to be foreigners, looked at the boys with the deepest pity, and spoke to each other rapidly in some guttural language, which Jonathan had a hazy idea was German, as if expressing sympathy with their emaciated condition.

One of them whom they took to be an officer, from the gold band on his cap and the tone of authority in his voice, stepped into their boat, and appeared to have the intention of lifting them out of it into the other; but all at once he seemed to notice the name of the Eric Strauss, and stopped short, with an expression of surprised astonishment on his face.

"Wunderbar!" he exclaimed, pointing out the name to his companions, who also looked eagerly at it; and then, while he remained with the boys in the cutter, the painter of the latter was attached to the other boat, which towed it alongside the ship; and, after that David and Jonathan remembered no more, as they both fainted as they were being tenderly hoisted on board.

Jonathan was the first to come to himself.

He was in a hammock in the 'tween decks of a ship, which he could feel was in motion. At the slight movement he made in raising his head and peering over the side of the hammock, a man with a grave face came to him, saying something he could not understand.

"Where's David?" inquired Jonathan, a little bit still puzzled in his head.

The man evidently knew that he was asking after his friend, as he pointed to another hammock, suspended a short distance from his own, in which David was calmly sleeping; after which he gave him some soup to drink, and Jonathan dropped off to sleep too.

When he awoke again he felt much better, and motioning to the attendant that he would like to get out of the hammock, the man assisted him on to his feet. He was a little shaky at first, feeling sore all over; but after walking up and down a few steps with the assistance of the attendant's arm, he regained his strength, and proceeded to the side of David's hammock to pay him a visit.

At the sound of Jonathan's voice, the other—who appeared to have been wide awake although he had made no movement—at once jumped up, and without any assistance got out and stood on the deck by Jonathan's side.

"Well, old fellow!" said he.

"Well, Dave!" ejaculated the other; and they clasped each other's hands with a tight grip, as they had never expected to do again on earth. They fully appreciated their rescue, and thanked God for it.

"And how do you feel, Dave?" inquired Jonathan, after they had had a long look at each other.

"First-rate," said he. "And you?"

"Oh, I'm all right. But your leg, Dave, is it better?"

"To tell you the truth," answered he with a hearty laugh, "I forgot all about it. It's quite well now—look! and that black and blue appearance it had has disappeared. I don't feel the slightest pain, so it must be all right."

The attendant, seeing both the lads better and able to move about, here brought them each a mess of something nice to eat, which they polished off in so hearty a manner as to make him smile, and exclaim, "Sehr gut!" with much satisfaction to himself; and he then handed the boys their clothes, which had been carefully dried and smoothed, and assisted them to dress.

"I wish," said David, as he completed his toilet by pulling on a pair of Hessian boots, that the man brought him in place of the solitary one which he remembered having on in the boat, "I wish we had been picked up by an English ship, although these chaps have been very kind, of course, and beggars mustn't be choosers. They are Germans, I suppose, eh? Do you know the lingo, Jonathan?"

"Yes, it's a German ship, Die Ahnfrau," replied his friend, likewise donning another pair of "loaned" boots, and accepting a cap, which the attendant produced with a bow. "How polite this chap is, Dave! I'm sorry I only know one or two words of the language, or I would thank him, and get out all the information I could about the vessel, and how they picked us up."

"Oh we'll find that out somehow," said David carelessly, "all in good time, old fellow." And the man at that moment tapping him on the arm, and making a motion that he should follow him, he and Jonathan went after him up the companion-stairs, from the cabin in which they were, on to the upper deck.

They were in a large barque, as they could see, under full sail, with royals, staysails, stunsails, and everything that could draw, set; but they had not much time given them for observation.

"Wie heissen Sie?" said a short, stout man in spectacles, speaking in a sharp imperative voice. He had a very broad gold band on his cap, and the boys took him for the captain of the vessel, as indeed he was. He specially seemed to address Jonathan, as the attendant who had escorted them on deck took them up to him, where he was standing by the binnacle with two or three others.

"John Liston," answered that worthy, speaking almost involuntarily, as the phrase the captain used, asking his name, was one of the few German ones with which he was acquainted.

"Ah, ah!" exclaimed the captain, in a very meaning tone, addressing an officer that stood by his side, and whom David fixed as the first mate. "Sie sprechen Deutsch! Ah, ha!"

"Nein,—no," said Jonathan, "I do not. I cannot speak German, I assure you."

"Very vell," said the little captain, in pretty good English, although with a strong foreign accent. "We will suppose you cannot! Tell me, how did you come in that boat in which we picked you up?"

Thereupon Jonathan told him of their being lost from the Sea Rover, David adding, as Jonathan left out that part of the story, how his friend had bravely plunged overboard to his rescue. The German captain, however, much to David's disgust, did not believe him. He wasn't accustomed to heroism in his sphere evidently!

"Oh, it's all very well," he said sneeringly, "but will you tell me how it was that you two boys, belonging to the Sea Rover, as you say, came to be in a boat belonging to the Eric Strauss, which boat was taken away from that vessel by some of the crew—amongst whom, we were informed at the Cape by the authorities there, were two lads like yourselves—after a mutiny in which they nearly murdered the master?"

Of course they explained; but the captain only turned a deaf ear to all they said. He insisted that they were the survivors of the mutineers of the Eric Strauss, and told them he intended putting them in irons, and taking them home for trial at Bremerhaven—where Die Ahnfrau was bound from Batavia, having only stopped at the Cape of Good Hope for fresh provisions and water, and having there heard of the mutiny on board the Eric Strauss, in which vessel the captain of the former was deeply interested, being the brother of the master, whom the crew had set upon, as well as partner of the ship.

All remonstrances on the boys' part were useless; and, after being so miraculously preserved from the perils of the deep, they wound up the history of their adventures when "lost at sea," as David pathetically remarked, by being "carried off prisoners to Germany by a lot of cabbage-soup-eating, sourkrout Teutons, who were almost bigger fools than they looked!" It was all Jonathan's little knowledge of the German language that did it, however.

Naturally, the mistake of Die Ahnfrau's commander was soon discovered on the arrival of the ship at Bremerhaven, when the boys were able to communicate with their friends and the owners of the Sea Rover in London, and they were released immediately. But the insult rankled in their bosoms for some time after, and did not completely disappear, from David's mind especially, until the Sea Rover—which, they heard from the owners at the same time that they produced proof of the boys' identity, had already left Melbourne on her return voyage—had got back safely to the port of London, and Johnny Liston's father and Captain Markham had greeted their young heroes as if they had been restored from the dead.

Jonathan received the medal of the Royal Humane Society for his bravery in plunging overboard to David's assistance; and the two boys are still the closest and dearest friends in the world, David being third mate, and Jonathan, who took to the sea for the other's sake, fourth officer of the Sea Rover, at the present moment, "which, when found," as Captain Cuttle says, "why, make a note on!"



STORY FOUR, CHAPTER ONE.

"BLACK HARRY."

"The cap'en p'r'aps was in fault in the first instance; but then, you know, it's no place for a man to argue for the right or wrong of a thing aboard ship. When he signs articles, he's bound to obey orders; and as everybody must be aware, especially those in the seafaring line, the captain is king on board his ship when once at sea—king, prime minister, parliament, judge and jury, and all the rest of it."

"But," said I, "he's under orders and under the law, too, as well as any other man, isn't he?"

"Yes, when he's ashore," said the mate with the shade over his eye. "Then he's got to answer for anything he might have done wrong on the voyage, if the crew likes to haul him up afore the magistrates; but at sea his word is law, and he can do as he pleases with no hindrance, save what providence and the elements may interpose."

"And providence does interpose sometimes?" said I.

"Yes, in the most wonderful and mysterious ways," said the mate with the shade over his eye, speaking in a solemn and awe-struck manner. "Look at what happened in our case! But stop, as I don't suppose you've heard the rights of it, I'll tell you all about it."

"Do," said I.

He was the mate of a vessel which had been picked up at sea, disabled and almost derelict under most peculiar circumstances, with only one other survivor besides himself on board, and brought into Falmouth by the passing steamer which had rescued her. He was a most extraordinary man to look at. Short, with a dreamy face and lanky, whitish-brown hair, and a patch or shade over one eye, which gave him a very peculiar appearance, as the other eye squinted or turned askew, looking, as sailors say, all the week for Sunday.

"Do," said I. "There's nothing that I should like better!"

Clearing his throat with a faint sort of apologetic cough, and staring apparently round the corner with his sound, or rather unshaded eye, he began without any further hesitation.