“And yonder is truly the boat!” added Mulford, with a sigh that almost amounted to a groan.  The light had, by this time, so far returned as to enable the party not only to see the fins of half a dozen sharks, which were already prowling about the wreck, the almost necessary consequence of their proximity to a reef in that latitude, but actually to discern the boat drifting down toward them, at a distance that promised to carry it past, within the reach of Mulford’s powers of swimming, though not as near as he could have wished, even under more favourable circumstances.  Had their extremity been greater, or had Rose begun to suffer from hunger or thirst, Mulford might have attempted the experiment of endeavoring to regain the boat, though the chances of death by means of the sharks would be more than equal to those of escape; but still fresh, and not yet feeling even the heat of the sun of that low latitude, he was not quite goaded into such an act of desperation.  All that remained for the party, therefore, was to sit on the keel of the wreck, and gaze with longing eyes at a little object floating past, which, once at their command, might so readily be made to save them from a fate that already began to appear terrible in the perspective.  Near an hour was thus consumed, ere the boat was about half a mile to leeward; during which scarcely an eye was turned from it for one instant, or a word was spoken.

“It is beyond my reach now,” Mulford at length exclaimed, sighing heavily, like one who became conscious of some great and irretrievable loss.  “Were there no sharks, I could hardly venture to attempt swimming so far, with the boat drifting from me at the same time.”

“I should never consent to let you make the trial, Harry,” murmured Rose, “though it were only half as far.”

Another pause succeeded.

“We have now the light of day,” resumed the mate, a minute or two later, “and may see our true situation.  No sail is in sight, and the wind stands steadily in its old quarter.  Still I do not think we leave the reef.  There, you may see breakers off here at the southward, and it seems as if more rocks rise above the sea, in that direction.  I do not know that our situation would be any the better, however, were we actually on them, instead of being on this floating wreck.”

“The rocks will never sink,” said Jack Tier, with so much emphasis as to startle the listeners.

“I do not think this hull will sink until we are taken off it, or are beyond caring whether it sink or swim,” returned Mulford.

“I do not know that, Mr. Mulford.  Nothing keeps us up but the air in the hold, you say.”

“Certainly not; but that air will suffice as long as it remains there.”

“And what do you call these things?” rejoined the assistant steward, pointing at the water near him, in or on which no one else saw anything worthy of attention.