ad spared them the torture which
they themselves were doomed to suffer:--

Famine, despair, cold, thirst, and heat had done
Their work on them by turns. BYRON.

Death at that moment would have been welcome.

Hour after hour passed away, but still the boat remained motionless on
the waters. Neither spoke; their hearts were too full for utterance:
in rapid succession, every thought and action of their lives passed
across their minds; home, kindred, friends, all would be remembered,
only again to be banished by the pangs of hunger and thirst.

Towards eight o'clock in the morning, the energies of Maclean and his
companion had almost sunk under the accumulated load of suffering; it
was more in despair than with any expectation of success, that they
once again cast their eyes around. But this time it was not in vain; a
white speck was seen in the distance: both exclaimed, 'A sail! a
sail!' and the extravagance of joy was now equal to their former
despair. Still the vessel was several miles distant, and unless those
on board kept a vigilant look-out, it was more than probable that they
would escape observation.

Of all the ills to which the human frame is liable, the agony of
suspense is the most intolerable. Hope and fear rose alternately in
their breasts; at one moment, the ship appeared to be nearing, at
another, she seemed further off than ever. The vessel sped slowly on
its course, but to their excited minds the time seemed interminable.
First the white canvas was seen, then the dark hull became visible;
but as yet no signs gave token that those on board were aware of their
proximity.

The brig, for such she now appeared, could not have been above half a
mile distant, when she suddenly altered her course. In vain they both
hailed at once, and waved their jackets as a signal, but no notice was
taken; then, indeed, every hope was dispelled, and the bitterness of
despair returned with redoubled force.

At this juncture, Meldrum resolved, at all hazards, to attempt to swim
to the vessel. If he remained in the boat, certain death would be the
fate of himself and his companion: on the other hand, he might perish
in the sea, but if he reached the brig, both would be saved. Without a
moment's hesitation, he communicated his design to Maclean, and then,
committing himself to the pretection of the Almighty, sprang
overboard.

The idea of solitude is so repugnant to human nature, that even death
would be preferab