When he thought of this he shuddered, and reverted, almost with a feeling of pleasure, to the idea that another storm might spring up ere long, and by dashing his frail raft to pieces, bring his life to a speedy termination. His hopes were not very clear even to his own mind. He did indeed hope, because he could not help it; but what it was that he hoped for would have puzzled him to state. A passing ship finding him in a part of the Pacific where ships were not wont to pass was, perhaps, among the least animating of all his hopes. But the thoughts that coursed through the youth's brain that night were not centred alone upon the means or the prospects of deliverance. He thought of his mother,--her gentleness, her goodness, her unaccountable partiality for Gascoyne; but more than all, he thought of her love for himself. He thought, too, of his former life--his joys, his sorrows, and his sins. As he remembered these last, his soul was startled, and he thought of his God and his Saviour as he had never thought before. Despite his efforts to restrain them, tears, but not unmanly tears, _would_ flow down his cheeks as he sat that evening on his raft; meditated on the past, the present, and the future, and realised the terrible solemnity of his position--without water or food--almost without hope--alone on the deep. [See Frontispiece.] CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING--DOINGS ON THE ISLE OF PALMS--GASCOYNE'S DESPAIR. It was not without some difficulty that the boat reached the shore after the squall burst upon them. On landing, the party observed, dark though it was, that their leader's countenance wore an expression of the deepest anxiety; yet there were lines upon it that indicated the raging of conflicting passions which he found it difficult to restrain. "I fear me," said Ole Thorwald in a troubled voice, "that our young friend Henry Stuart is in danger." "Lost!" said Gascoyne, in a voice so low and grating that it startled his hearers. "Say not so," said Mr Mason, earnestly. "He is a brave and a clever youth, and knows how to manage the cutter until we can row back and fetch him ashore." "Row back!" exclaimed Gascoyne, almost fiercely. "Think you that I would stand here idle if our boat could live in such a sea as now rolls on the rocks? The _Wasp_ must have been washed over the reef by this time. She may pass the next without being dashed to pieces, but she is too rickety to stand the third. No, there is no hope!" While he spoke the missionary's eyes were closed, and his lips moved as if in silent prayer. Seizing Gascoyne nervously by the arm, he said--"You cannot tell that there is no hope. That is known only to One who has encouraged us to `hope against hope.' Henry is a stout youth and a good swimmer. He may succeed in clinging to some portion of the wreck."