What became of the other boats I do not know, but the one in which I found myself in company with five other men, all Cuban cigarmakers, was nearly upset by a heavy wave during the second night we were out, and we were all thrown into the sea.  As none of the Cubans could swim, they were all lost, but I succeeded in reaching the boat, which had righted itself, though half full of water.

There was nothing in the boat but two oars which had not slipped out of their rowlocks, a leather scoop which had been tied to a thwart, and the aforementioned water.

Before morning I had nearly baled out the boat, and fortunate it was for me that up to the time of the upset we had had enough to eat and drink, for otherwise I should not have had strength for that work and for what followed.

Not long after daybreak I sighted the Sparhawk, and immediately began to make such signals as I could.  The vessel appeared to be but a few miles distant, and I could not determine whether she was approaching me or going away from me.  I could see no sign that my signals had been noticed, and began frantically to row toward her.  After a quarter of an hour of violent exertion, I did not appear to be much nearer to her; but, observing her more closely, I could see, even with my landsman’s eyes, that something was the matter with her.  Portions of her mast and rigging were gone, and one large sail at her stern appeared to be fluttering in the wind.

But it mattered not to me what had happened to her.  She was a ship afloat, and I must reach her.  Tired, hungry, and thirsty I rowed and rowed, but it was not until long after noon that I reached her.  She must have been much farther from me than I had supposed.

With a great deal of trouble I managed to clamber on board, and found the ship deserted.  I had suspected that this would be the case, for as I had drawn near I would have seen some sign that my approach was noticed had there been anybody on board to perceive it.  But I found food and water, and when I was no longer hungry or thirsty I threw myself in a berth, and slept until the sun was high the next day.

I had now been on the derelict vessel for eight days.  Why she had been deserted and left to her fate I was not seaman enough to know.  It is true that her masts and rigging were in a doleful condition, but she did not appear to be leaking, and rode well upon the sea.  There was plenty of food and water on board, and comfortable accommodations.  I afterwards learned that during the terrible cyclone which had overtaken her, she had been on her beam ends for an hour before the crew left her in the boats.

For the first day or two of my sojourn on the Sparhawk I was as happy as a man could be under the circumstances.  I thought myself to be perfectly safe, and believed it could not be long before I would be picked up.  Of course I did not know my latitude and longitude, but I felt sure that the part of the Atlantic in which I was must be frequently crossed by steamers and other vessels.