Very gloomy and despondent were his thoughts as he sat there, idly watching the crisp-curling waves racing past. One of the trio had passed away, and, without food or water, without mast or sail, with their strength rapidly ebbing away, the situation of the remaining two was hourly growing more critical. Had they not had the misfortune to lose both mast and sail, George would have endeavoured to return to the Isle of Pines; but to do so with the oars alone, now that they had scarcely strength to use them, was impossible. There was no alternative, therefore, but to wait patiently, and hope that they might be picked up before it should be too late. The boat drifted on hour after hour, the sun rose, the wave-crests sparkled and glanced under his cheering rays, and still the horizon remained sail-less. At last Tom, after stirring uneasily, awoke from his stupor, glanced with eager, haggard eyes around him, and uttered a groan of despair. "Then it is _not_ true, after all," he gasped; and George noticed with consternation the difficulty with which the poor fellow articulated,--"it is _not_ true; it was only a dream." "What was a dream, Tom?" asked George, and he started at the hollow sepulchral tones of his own voice. "I dreamt that a noble ship had hove in sight and was bearing down upon us under stunsails. She was painted white from her truck down to her water-line; her canvas was white as snow; she was flying a great white flag from her main-royal-masthead, and the people on board her were all dressed in white. It was a grand sight to see her sweeping down toward us, with the cool clear water flashing up under her sharp bows, and there was--ah! see, it was no dream, after all; hurrah! she comes--_she comes_!" And the poor fellow pointed away to where the rays of the sun fell upon the water in a broad white dazzling glare. "Merciful Heaven!" muttered George, "this is horrible; the lad is out of his senses, gone mad with hunger and thirst. Sit down, Tom," said he coaxingly, "sit down, there's a good fellow; I can see no ship. What you see is only the glare of the sun on the water. But if we are only patient, please God, a ship _will_ come and pick us up before long. But we must be cool and steady, and keep a sharp lookout, so that when she heaves in sight we may be ready to signal to her." Tom passed his hand wearily over his forehead, shaded his eyes with his hand, again peered long and anxiously over the gleaming sea, and shook his head despondingly. The bright vision had vanished, and he sank moodily down in the bottom of the boat, his arms resting upon the thwart, and his head bowed upon them.