I was sorry for Silver, but I could do nothing. None of the men could do anything for him. Captain Nelson could have stopped it, but he did not, for some reason or other. Silver was getting more and more desperate and morose, and was looking for a chance to get away. The Seychelles might have offered him a chance, but we did not enter a port there, nor send a boat ashore. Even if his boat had gone ashore his chance of escaping would have been slim, for Mr. Snow was aware that Silver would desert if he got a chance, and would have kept an eye on him. For that matter, none of Mr. Snow’s crew were to be trusted now, with the exception of Miller, the boatsteerer. All the officers and all the men knew that, and Mr. Snow’s boat would have been the last one chosen to go ashore. We were often within sight of land, about eight or ten miles from it. One day, after a morning of light and variable airs, and an afternoon of flat calm, the ship had drifted in until darkness found us not more than four miles from shore. I think the officers were a little worried about it. An anchor was got ready, and chain overhauled, but the anchor was not put over. It was a hot night, the only really hot night we had in that neighborhood; moonless, {241} with light clouds overspreading the sky. Practically the whole crew were on deck throughout the evening. They made rather a crowd about the fore part of the ship, from knightheads to try-works. I was aware of a subtle stir among them, and I drifted forward to see what it meant, or whether it meant anything. Mr. Macy passed me, probably on the same errand; but he could find nothing, and after a turn about the windlass, he passed me again, on his way back. I sat down by the windlass, and pretty soon I heard a hoarse whisper. “ ’D he get away clear?” “Ye’,” another voice replied in a low growl, “all clear. Hope the sharks don’t get him. Water ’s swarmin’ with ’em. Tried to persuade him to wait, but he would n’t. Said they might ’s well ’s that fourth mate. He ’s to light a fire if he gets ashore—matches sealed up with grease in a tin. We ’re to watch for it.” “How soon?” “Dunno. How long ’ll it take to swim four miles? Two hours or better, I should think—if he makes it at all.” The whispering drifted away. Within half an hour we saw lightning at a great distance to the northwest. It came nearer, and a little air puffed in our faces; increased to a gentle breeze. The thunder-storm did not strike us, but the breeze continued long enough for us to get away from the immediate neighborhood of the land. By the time the two hours were up, we were too far away to see a fire kindled on the beach, and I never knew whether poor Silver got safely to shore or not. I never saw him or heard of him again.