n
for making sail.

Fortunately, a Spanish merchant among our prisoners spoke a little
English, so that Mr Falconer had not to betray to them his knowledge of
their language. The fat friar shrugged his shoulders when he heard what
he was to do. He seemed, however, not a little pleased to get out of
the clutches of the terrible privateersman. As soon as he had been
landed, the _Dolphin's_ anchor was hove up, and the land breeze still
blowing, we sailed out of the harbour.

We were standing on and off the island during the night. It was a calm
and beautiful one. I had gone on deck to be near Dick, which I
frequently did during his watch, when, the moon shining brightly from
behind some light fleecy clouds which floated over the sky, we caught
sight of an object gliding over the glittering waters. As it
approached, Dick pronounced it to be a raft, with a small square sail
set, and soon afterwards we distinguished two figures on it. He hailed.
There came, in reply, a faint cry across the water. Directly
afterwards the sail was lowered. Mr Falconer, who was officer of the
watch, ordered the ship to be hove-to and a boat lowered, which quickly
towed the raft and its occupants alongside. The men were hoisted on
deck, for they were too weak to climb up by themselves. Dick and I, who
had good reason to feel for them, hurried to the gangway. Dick, without
asking questions, filled a cup of water and brought it to them; they
both drank eagerly.

Mr Falconer while by his orders a couple of hammocks were being got
ready for them, inquired who they were and whence they had come. One,
who appeared the least exhausted, answered that they had been ten days
at sea, and for the three last they had been without food or water, with
the exception of half a biscuit apiece, and that they were the survivors
of six who had embarked on the raft.

"I am the second mate of the _Juno_, armed whaler," continued the
speaker. "Our crew mutinied, murdered the captain and several of the
other officers; but the third mate and I, with four men who refused to
join them, were turned adrift on this wretched raft, with but a scanty
allowance of water and provisions, which the mutineers gave us,
asserting that it was enough to support us till we could reach the
shore. Calms and light winds prevailed, and we were almost abandoning
hope, when, this afternoon, we made the land, though I doubt if we
should have survived had we not fallen in with