No boat was left; had there been one, it could not have lived, nor could I have managed it alone.  Spars he had already, but what must become of him without food or water?  I threw two breakers of the last into the sea, and a box of bread, in a sort of idle hope they might drift down near the wreck, and help to prolong the sufferer’s life.  They were all tossed about in the cauldron of the ocean, and disappeared to leeward, I knew not whither.  When Marble was no longer visible from deck, I went into the main-top and watched the mass of spars and rigging, so long as any portion of it could be seen.  Then I set it by compass, in order to know its bearing, and an hour before the sun went down, or as soon as the diminished power of the wind would permit, I showed an ensign aloft, as a signal that I bore my mate in mind.

“He knows I will not desert him as long as there is hope—­so long as I have life!” I muttered to myself; and this thought was a relief to my mind, in that bitter moment.

Bitter moment, truly!  Time has scarcely lessened the keenness of the sensations I endured, as memory traces the feelings and incidents of that day.  From the hour when I sailed from home, Lucy’s image was seldom absent from my imagination, ten minutes at a time; I thought of her, sleeping and waking; in all my troubles; the interest of the sea-fight I had seen could not prevent this recurrence of my ideas to their polar star, their powerful magnet; but I do not remember to have thought of Lucy, even, once after Marble was thus carried away from my side.  Neb, too, with his patient servitude, his virtues, his faults, his dauntless courage, his unbounded devotion to myself, had taken a strong hold on my heart, and his loss had greatly troubled me, since the time it occurred.  But I remember to have thought much of Lucy, even after Neb was swept away, though her image became temporarily lost to my mind, during the first few hours I was thus separated from Marble.

By the time the sun set, the wind had so far abated, and the sea had gone down so much, as to remove all further apprehensions from the gale.  The ship lay-to easily, and I had no occasion to give myself any trouble on her account.  Had there been light, I should now have put the helm up, and run to leeward, in the hope of finding the spars, and at least of keeping near Marble; but, fearful of passing him in the darkness, I deferred that duty until the morning.  All I could do was to watch the weather, in order to make this effort, before the wind should shift.

What a night I passed!  As soon as it was dark, I sounded the pumps, and found six feet water in the hold.  It was idle for one man to attempt clearing a vessel of the Dawn’s size; and I gave myself no further thought in the matter.  So much injury had been done the upper works of the ship, that I had a sort of conviction she must go down, unless fallen in with by some other craft.  I cannot say apprehension for my own fate troubled me any, or that I thought of the rum to my fortunes that was involved in the loss of the ship.  My mind reverted constantly to my companions; could I have recovered them, I should have been happy, for a time, at least.