and as Mark Vandean knelt there, he saw Tom
Fillot standing before him with the Union Jack in his hand.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

"WILL MORNING NEVER COME?"

For the full space of an hour there was utter silence in the boat, where
the lieutenant and his stricken crew lay as in a stupor. The black
clouds had rolled away, and the calm sea was bathed in silvery light.
The air was warm, but, by comparison with the scorching day, the
temperature was delicious.

Tom Fillot had folded up the flag and laid it back in the locker, after
which he had seated himself to wait for orders. At last, after quite an
effort, Mark roused himself from his musings, and turned to his
companion in distress.

"Tom," he said, "what ought I to do?"

"Nothing, sir," said the man, promptly. "There ain't nothing you can.
Someone else must do whatever is to be done for us. We've got to wait."

"But could we row back to the port?"

"Without biscuit or water, sir, and with that sun sure to come up
to-morrow ready to 'most scorch out our brains. What do you think?"

"I think it's impossible, Tom."

"Don't say think, sir. It's what you say without the think, and so I
tell you. Impossible, and I don't say that because I ain't willing to
work. I'll take an oar, and row till I drop if you like, but what good
will one man do, or one man and a young gentleman? You needn't say you
think it's impossible, sir, for you know it is, and that all we can do
is to sit and wait. To-morrow morning, I'll rig up the flag over an
oar, so as to keep the sun off Mr Russell, sir."

"If the ship hasn't come and picked us up, Tom."

The sailor was silent.

"Don't say you think she will not," cried the lad.

"Very well, sir, but I'll say this she can't sir, till there's some
wind, and that's why it is. The captain has either took the schooner or
give it up; and then, as he was coming back to pick us up, he's been and
got becalmed. When the crew has whistled enough and the wind come,
he'll make all sail, but whether he'll find any of us left to pick up is
more'n I can say."

The man ceased speaking, and resting his chin upon his hands, sat
watching the glittering water stretching right away beneath the moon, a
scene of beauty so grand that for the moment it thrilled Mark, but only
for that moment; the next he was in utter despair, famished, his mouth
dry, and above all, suffering from a terrible feeling of horror which
made him shrink within himself, as h