ted than the Frenchman was himself again,
hurrying about in search of the utensils necessary for his calling. He
had cooked a capital supper for them, and he now offered to cook one for
us. On collecting all the sails we had landed, we were able to form a
shelter for ourselves, as well as for the seamen; and at length, weary
with our exertions, we lay down to rest. The captain and mate were very
silent, and I hoped ashamed of themselves. During the night there was a
good deal of wind and sea. I was thankful that we were on shore, and
when I looked out I almost expected to find that the ship had gone to
pieces. There, however, she was, still holding fast together. Seeing
this, the captain declared that he would get her off, and that if trees
could be found in the island suitable for new spars, he could proceed on
his voyage.

"If he knew of the bumping she got he wouldn't say so," observed
O'Carroll. "That ship will never float again, and, strong as she is,
another gale such as we had last night will break her to pieces."

As there was nothing more to be done, we started to explore the island.
It seemed to be the chief of a group of rocky islets, being about six
miles long and half as broad. Though we made diligent search as we
walked on, we could find no water. A few small casks of the precious
liquid had been landed, but sufficient only for another day or two.

"And what shall we do when that is gone?" asked William. It was a
serious question.

"We must trust in God, for vain is the help of man in such a case," I
answered; "at all events, we must use what we have got with the greatest
economy."

On returning to the camp and reporting our want of success in finding
water, what was our dismay to find that every drop in the casks had been
consumed! All the poor people could say was that they were so thirsty,
and the children were so constantly crying out for water, that they
could not help giving it to them. We were ourselves already suffering
greatly from thirst after our ramble, yet not a drop of water did we
obtain. Our lips were parched, our tongues dry: without water we could
not eat, we loathed food, supperless we lay down to sleep. All night
long I was dreaming of sparkling fountains and running brooks. As soon
as it was daylight we again set out with a spade and pickaxe, prepared,
if we could find no running stream, to dig wherever verdure showed that
moisture was at hand. We walked on and on