"In two days if the wind holds," answered Hemming; "perhaps in less time we may sight it." But the wind did not hold. Once more they knew that they were being blown off it. Their hearts sank. They wellnigh gave way to despair. Each of the officers took it in turns to stand up to keep a lookout for a sail or for land. Jack was standing on the top of the cask, holding on by the mast, when his eye fell on a white glittering object to the northward. "Yes, it is! it is!" he exclaimed; "a sail! a sail! she must be standing this way." All but the weakest or most desponding turned their anxious eyes in the direction Jack indicated. The sight of some was already too dim to discern her, but others raised a feeble shout, and declared that she was standing close hauled towards them. How eagerly they watched her, till their anxiety became painful in the extreme. Some shouted, "We shall be saved, we shall be saved;" but others moaned out, "No, no, she'll not see us, she will pass us." Hemming stood up, watching the approaching vessel. He said nothing. He was not certain that she would near them. One hour of intense anxiety passed. There was very little wind. Another hour glided on. "Yes, my lads, she is undoubtedly standing this way," cried Hemming. "But--" and he stopped. "She may be a slaver, and if so, I know not whether we should be better off than we now are." "Surely, bad as they may be, they would not leave us," said Jack. "Don't let us be too sure of that. There is nothing too bad for slavers to do," observed Hemming; "however, let us hope for the best." The stranger approached. She had very square yards, very white canvas, and a black hull. If she was not a slaver, she looked very like one. Still, even if they had wished it, they could not have avoided her. On she came. Her course would have taken her somewhat wide of the raft. It was not seen apparently. Then suddenly her course was altered. Some one on board had made them out. The brig stood towards them. When she was scarcely more than half a mile off, it fell a dead calm. A boat was lowered. "Those fellows pull in man-of-war's style," observed Hemming. "Grant she may be an English cruiser: but I fear not." The almost dying seamen endeavoured to cheer, but their weak voices were scarcely heard over the waters. The boat dashed towards them. They could hear the officer in her speaking to his men. It was in Spanish. "Then they are slavers, after all," cried Jack, with a sigh.