Part 34 (1/2)

”It is a raft, I think,” observed the second lieutenant, as he adjusted the telescope more perfectly.

”You are right, and I think there is someone on it,” said Mulroy. ”I see something like a man lying on it, but whether he is dead or alive I cannot say. There is a flag, undoubtedly--but no one waves a handkerchief or a rag of any kind. Surely, if a _living_ being occupied the raft he would have seen the s.h.i.+p by this time. Stay, he moves! No; it must have been imagination. I fear that he is dead, poor fellow.

Stand by to lower a boat.”

The lieutenant spoke in a sad voice, for he felt convinced that he had come too late to the aid of some unfortunate who had died in perhaps the most miserable manner in which man can perish.

Henry Stuart did indeed lie on the raft a dead man to all appearance.

Towards the evening of his third day, he had suffered very severely from the pangs of hunger. Long and earnestly had he gazed round the horizon, but no sail appeared. He felt that his end was approaching, and in a fit of despair and increasing weakness, he fell on his face in a state of half consciousness. Then he began to pray, and, gradually, he fell into a troubled slumber.

It was while he was in this condition, that the _Talisman_ hove in sight. Henry had frequently fallen into this species of sleep during the last few hours, but he never continued in it long, for the pains of thirst as well as hunger now racked his frame. Nevertheless, he was not much reduced in strength or vigour. A long slow process of dying would have still lain before the poor youth, had it been his lot to perish on that raft.

A delightful dream came over him as he lay. A rich banquet was spread before him. With wolfish desire he grasped the food, and ate as he never ate before. Oh! it was a rare feast that! Each morsel was delicious; each draught was nectar. But he could not devour enough.

There was a strange feeling in him that he could by no means eat to satisfaction.

While he was thus feasting in dreams the _Talisman_ drew near. Her bulwarks were crowded with faces gazing earnestly at the bit of red rag that fluttered in the breeze and the pile of loose spars on the man's form lay extended and motionless.

Suddenly Henry awoke with a start, to find that his rich banquet was a terrible delusion! that he was starving to death--and that a large s.h.i.+p was hove-to within a few yards of him!

Starting up on his knees, he uttered a wild shriek. Then, as the truth entered his soul, he raised his hand and gave a faint cheer.

The revulsion of feeling in the crew of the _Talisman_ was overpowering--a long, loud, tremendous cheer burst from every heart!

”Lower away!” was shouted to the men who stood at the fall-tackles of the boat!

As the familiar sounds broke on Henry's ear, he leaped to his feet, and waving his hand above his head, again attempted to cheer; but his voice failed him. Staggering backwards, he fell fainting into the sea.

Almost at the same instant, a man leaped from the bulwark of the frigate, and swam vigorously towards the raft. It was Richard Price, the boatswain of the frigate. He reached Henry before the boat did, and, grasping his inanimate form, supported him until it came up and rescued them both. A few minutes later Henry Stuart was restored to consciousness, and the surgeon of the frigate was ministering to him such restoratives as his condition seemed to require.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

THE CAPTURE AND THE FIRE.

Eight days after the rescue of Henry Stuart from a horrible death, as related in the last chapter, the _Talisman_ found herself, late in the afternoon, within about forty hours' sail of Sandy Cove.

Mulroy had visited the Isle of Palms, and found that the pirates had flown. The mate of the _Avenger_ and his companions had taken advantage of the opportunity of escape afforded them by Gascoyne, and had hastily quitted their rendezvous with as much of the most valuable portion of their booty as the boat could carry. As this is their last appearance in these pages, it may be as well to say that they were never again heard of. Whether they perished in a storm, or gained some distant land, and followed their former leader's advice--to repent of their sins,--or again took to piracy, and continued the practice of their terrible trade under a more b.l.o.o.d.y minded captain, we cannot tell. They disappeared as many a band of wicked men has disappeared before, and never turned up again. With these remarks we dismiss them from our tale.

Surly d.i.c.k now began to entertain sanguine hopes that he would be pardoned, and that he would yet live to enjoy the undivided booty which he alone knew lay concealed in the Isle of Palms--for, now that he had heard Henry's account of the landing of Gascoyne on the island, he never doubted that the pirates would fly in haste from a spot that was no longer unknown to others, and that they would be too much afraid of being captured to venture to return to it.

It was, then, with a feeling of no small concern that the pirate heard the look-out shout on the afternoon referred to, ”Sail ho!”

”Where away?”

”On the lee beam.”

The course of the frigate was at once changed, and she ran down towards the strange sail.

”A schooner, sir,” observed the second lieutenant to Mr Mulroy.