ent its strength in eddies
of circling foam, as David could imagine--for the darkness rendered
everything invisible now, even the platform on which they were
supported, and the unknown companion beside them, which might be
anything, and their very hands when held before their faces.

Some time after midnight, when David and Jonathan had gone through a
purgatory of dread, not knowing what might happen to them any moment,
the moon rose gradually from the horizon, shining faintly through a veil
of clouds that almost obscured its light, and the morbid terror of the
two boys was at once dispelled on their being able to perceive what it
really was that had occasioned them such alarm.

"Goodness gracious me, Jonathan!" exclaimed David, with a tone of glad
surprise in his voice, which at once aroused his friend, who was lying
face downwards on the raft, with his head buried in his crossed arms.
"Why, what do you think it is that has frightened us so? I'm blest if
it isn't that very identical boat that you saw in the afternoon passing
by the _Sea Rover_! Isn't it providential, old chap, that after all
these hours we should come across it again? Thank God for it,
Jonathan," he added more earnestly a moment afterwards; "it may save
both our lives in case the ship is unable to find us and pick us up!"

Yes, there it was, a long black boat, the cutter of some vessel, that
had been washed away from the bows, as it was twenty feet long and more,
floating keel uppermost, alongside the raft, although buried somewhat
deep in the water.

The night had no longer any terrors for them; and, although they waited
anxiously for the sun to rise to see whether the _Sea Rover_ was still
in sight--for the moon was frequently obscured by clouds, and its light
too intermittent and deceptive for them to scan the ocean by--they did
not dream of despairing now, even if their worst suspicions should be
realised, and the ship have left them to their fate, as the boat offered
them a tangible means of rescue, which the raft did not; albeit it had
saved their lives for the while, and served as a "pis-aller."

Morning came at last, first tinging the horizon to the eastwards with a
pale sea-green hue, that deepened into a roseate tinge, and then merged
into a vivid crimson flush, that spread and spread until the whole
heavens reflected the glory of the orb of day, that rose in all its
might from its bed in the waters, and moved with rapid strides toward