The silver messenger. (Challis, Idaho) 1890-1912, 1900-02-20
CHAPTER III.
Useless Regrets.


must have lain long thus On re-
covering, / rose more stiff and more
benumbed than ever. and with feeble
steps assembled the companion ladder,
and then cry of despair escaped me-
The sky was clear and sunny, but
whether with the light of a rising or a
setting sun, could not at first deter
mine, morning and evening on the
ocean being so much alike to an I'M
practiced eye. Not a vestige of land
was visiblel
Sea and sky were around me; not a
sail was in sight, and nothing living
was near. save few petrels tripping
over the water, alongside OF the fatal
schooner.
Had ! slept all night, and was this
the dawn OF new day? Had | slept
all day. and was this the approach OF
another night? l devoutly hoped not,
as / most dreaded night upon the
pecan; but the gradual sinking OF the
sun. and the increasing redness of the
sky, ere long informed me that the
time was evening. j now knew the
west, and turned my haggard eyes to
the south, for there the land and my
home lay; but still the envious wind,
though lighter now, seemed to blow
from that quarter.
OH how deeply and earnestly, by
thoughts unuttered, | prayed in my
heart that 1t would change and blow
toward the shore-any shore-or any
part Of the coast of England, and
bring me so near that l might have a
chance of escape of life and preserva-
lion. by swimming putting to the
test that skill and those powers OF ac-
tivity ! had acquired at Elton, in the
waters Of the Thames.
The sea was comparatively smooth,
but still the empty schooner rolled and
lurched fearfully; the more so that the
fore and aft foresail was hanging so
loosely in the brails.
A hundred years seemed TO have
elapsed since had heard the dear
voices and seen the loved faces of those
/ had left at home-of my father. my
mother, of Dot and Of Sybil: while the
svents OF my early schoolboy days
seemed to have occurred but yesterday.
All time was chaos and confusionl
In my sorrow and despair never
thought. unless with anger, OF Jan van
Heervogel, the poor Dutch skipper,
whose interests were so much involved
with the loss or safety of his little
Schooner, with which the food tide had
made so free. l thought only of my
own danger. and my mothers sorrow
for the mystery that would oyerhang
any fate.
Now hunger assailed me, creating a
new terror lest should perish by want
of food; and all had read or heard of
wrecks. RATS and castaways crowded
on my memory to aggravate the real
perils which surrounded me.
Once more l sought the cabin. and
on finding an ak broke open what ap-
peared to be a press or locker. There
In were several cups, bottles and drink
ing glasses, placed in perforated
shelves; but nothing eatable save a sim
Gle hard and moldy biscuit, which the
rats abandoned on my approach, and
nothing drinkable save the remains Of
the brandy in which the peaches had
been preserved-and / viewed the jar
with horror. as the primary cause of all
my sufferings and dangers-I say the
remains, for 1t had fallen from the ta-
BILE and been broken to pieces; so moth
ing remained of its contents, except
about a gill in a fragment and the
peaches which lay In the lee or lower
side of the cabin.
What would l not have given for a
single drop of pure cold water, to allie
yiate that choking thirst which is ever
the sequel to sickness, excitement and
sorrow But there was not drop Oh
board, as the scuttle-butt had broken
Its lashings in one of the lurches of the