the relief of exertion; in the later stages there was the insensibility
of apathy. The time of sharp anguish was during the transition from the
one state to the other.
The _coup-de-grace_ came thus. Some half hour or so after the affair of
the anchor, while we were drifting before the sea, we perceived a light
ahead. Of course, this must be a vessel, most probably a _chasse marée_
belonging to the island. It was scarcely possible that we should reach
this vessel, but of course we were violently agitated, at sight of
her, with new-born hope. Hamilton even roused up and did what he could
to help in keeping us afloat; which condition it was very doubtful
whether we should be able to preserve long enough to enable us to come
up with the stranger. She proved to be beating to windward, and we saw
presently that one of her tacks would bring her within hail of us. To
see this was to pass at once from despair to confidence. We regarded
ourselves as saved, and scarcely heeded the time that must pass before
she could come up with us; a time, every minute of which was fraught
with peril, that might shut out from us the prospective help. As she
drew near, one only fear remained, lest she might pass us unobserved in
the obscurity of night; and so diminutive, an object were we, and so
little to be expected in that place, that there was some room for the
fear. As she neared us we shouted loudly, but the din of the elements
was not to be overcome by our puny voices. But on a night like that,
it was necessary to keep a good look-out, and we knew that she must
have watchful eyes peering into the darkness. I had on board a brace
of pistols ready charged, which having been stowed away in the locker
had been kept dry. We fired one after the other, when quite close to
the vessel, and succeeded in attracting their notice. We even made out
in the murky air, to which our eyes were becoming accustomed, one or
two figures of men, who ran forward to see what was the matter. But the
_chasse marée_ held on her way, unheeding. When almost under her bows,
we called out to them in agony, to heave to, and take us on board. But
to our utter horror they held on their way, taking no notice of us
except by some unintelligible cries. The _chasse marée_ passed on, as
if she thought it matter of little heed that two human beings were left
to perish in the elemental strife of that dark night.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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