mself was unable to speak, but he pointed to the boy's mouth, and then
to his own. Mr Martin understood the signs, and shouted to the men to
come on with the provisions. Even then he could scarcely recognise the
features of Harry Oliver, or of the young midshipman by his side, so
fearfully had famine and exhaustion told on them. The men were soon
gathered round the sufferers. Before Mr Oliver would take any of the
spirits and water brought to him, he watched to see a few drops poured
down the throat of his companion. The effect was almost instantaneous.
His eyes, already glazing, it seemed in death, recovered a portion of
their brightness, and a slight colour returned to his deadly pale
cheeks. A moderate draught of the same mixture greatly restored the
young officer, but he was even then unable to speak.

"I told you he was a live man," observed Mr Martin at last to the
seamen; "but if you had given way to your fears, you see in a very few
minutes more both our young friends would have become what you supposed
them already to be."

The men now hurried back to bring some of the boat's oars and a sail on
which they might convey the sufferers, for Mr Martin was anxious to get
them on board without further delay. After waiting a little time
longer, he considered that they were sufficiently recovered to be
removed.

Great was the astonishment, and greater still the satisfaction, of all
on board when they arrived alongside.

The young midshipman hovered for a considerable time between life and
death. Had it not been, I believe, for the watchful care of my mother
and the surgeon, he would, after all, have sunk under the hardships he
had endured. Not, indeed, till the following day, was Mr Oliver
himself able to give an account of his escape. Except the man at the
helm, the crew of the gunboat had been forward when the squall came on.
He and the midshipman Bramston were standing aft. He recollected, as
the vessel sank beneath his feet, catching the lad in his arms, and
springing over the taffrail. As to what became of the man at the helm,
or the rest of the crew, he could not tell. For a few seconds he was
drawn under the water, but returning to the surface again, he found
close to him several spars that had been lashed together, but, as it
appeared, not secured to the deck of the vessel.

On these he threw himself and his young charge. A current, he supposed,
swept them away to the westward. When daylight