sticking between two of them. This he
hauled out of the water, and found it to be a portion of the gaff. It
was a fortunate discovery; because, in the event of long exposure, it
would prove to be a most useful covering. Wringing it out, he spread it
over the logs to dry.

The doing of all this occupied the shipwrecked youth so long that it was
nearly midday before he could sit down on his raft and think calmly over
his position. Hunger now began to remind him that he was destitute of
food; but Henry had been accustomed, while roaming among the mountains
of his island home, to go fasting for long periods of time. The want of
breakfast, therefore, did not inconvenience him much; but before he had
remained inactive more than ten minutes, the want of sleep began to tell
upon him. Gradually he felt completely overpowered by it. He laid his
head on one of the spars at last, and resigned himself to an influence
he could no longer resist.

It was evening before he awoke from that slumber. The sun had just
disappeared below the horizon, and the red clouds that remained behind
were beginning to deepen, as night prepared to throw her dark mantle
over the sea. A gull wheeled over the youth's head and uttered a wild
cry as he awoke, causing him to start up with a feeling of bewildered
uncertainty as to where he was.

The true nature of his position was quickly forced upon him. A dead calm
now prevailed. Henry gazed eagerly, wistfully round the horizon. It was
an unbroken line; not a speck that resembled a sail was to be seen.
Remembering for the first time that his low raft would be quite
invisible at a very short distance, he set about erecting a flag. This
was easily done. Part of his red shirt was torn off and fastened to a
light spar, the end of which he stuck between the logs. Having set up
his signal of distress, he sat down beside it, and, drawing part of the
sail over his shoulders, leaned on the broken part of the bulwark, and
pondered his forlorn condition.

It was a long, sad reverie into which poor Henry Stuart fell that
evening. Hope did not, indeed, forsake his breast; for hope is strong in
youth; but he was too well acquainted with the details of a sailor's
life and risks to be able to shut his eyes to the real dangers of his
position. He knew full well that if he should be cast on any of the
inhabited islands of the South Seas (unless it might be one of the very
few that had at that time accepted the gospel) he