he would stand still if he hadn't, for he's just the fellow, if he has no tools, as would set to and make some." And the night gradually wore on, with the men taking their turns at rowing. The boatswain and Bob Jackson both declared themselves to be as dry as a bone, and what with talking and setting despair at defiance, they went on and on through the great silence and darkness that hovered together over the mighty deep, till all at once the boatswain startled Fitz by turning quite suddenly and saying to him-- "There aren't no farmyard and a stable handy, sir, to give us what we want. Could you make shift to do it?" "To do what?" said Fitz wonderingly. "Crow like a cock, sir. It's just the right time now." "You don't mean to say it's morning, Butters?" "No, sir; it's Natur' as is a-doing that. You've got your back to it. Turn round and look behind you. That's the east." Both lads wrenched themselves round upon the thwart where they sat, to gaze back over the sea and catch the first glimpse of the faint dawn with its promises of hope and life, and the end of the terrible night through which they had passed. And after the manner of the tropics, the broad daylight was not long in coming, followed by the first glint of the sun, which, as it sent a long line of ruddy gold over the surface of the sea, lit up one little speck of light miles upon miles to the north of where they lay. Fitz Burnett was the first to make it out, but before he could speak the boatswain had seen it too, and broke out with-- "Three cheers, my lads. Put all you know into it, hearty. There lies the _Teal_. Can you see the skipper, Mr Poole, sir?" "See my father?" cried the lad. "No! What do you mean?" "Ah, you want practice, sir. You ought to see him with your young eyes. He's there on deck somewhere with that double-barrelled spyglass of his, on the look-out for this 'ere boat." "Perhaps so," said Poole quietly, "and I suppose that's one of the _Teal's_ sails; but it's only half as big as a pocket-handkerchief folded into twenty-four." Two hours later they were on board, for it had not been long before the double-barrelled spyglass had picked them out. CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. ON THE WRONG SIDE. An anxious look-out had been kept up all through those early hours on board both schooner and boat, for during the long delay caused by the accident, it seemed highly probable that as the gunboat did not come in sight she must have passed them in the darkness, gone on, and hence might at any moment come into view. A man was sent up to the cross-trees, and a sharp look-out was kept up as well from the deck for the missing crew who were got safely on board, and the schooner sailed away towards the south and west, and still with no danger in sight.