f be making
way to the windward.

The sea-chest and the cask first loosed from its lashings, had been
launched long before any of the others,--for it was only after an
interval of reflection that he had set free the rest,--and the former
were now far to windward. When looking from the masthead he had noted
that the position of the swimmers was not so far beyond the kit; and it
was scarce possible at that time, that they could have failed to
discover it. Without staying to consider whether they had done so or
not, William had come down from his perch; and now that he had reapplied
himself to the oar, and saw that he was gaining ground in the right
direction, he did not like to desist. Every fathom he made to windward
was a fathom nearer to the saving of the lives of his companions,--a
stroke less for the swimmers to make,--to whom, wearied as they must now
be, the saving of even a single stroke might be an object.

With this thought urging him to perseverance, the sailor-lad stuck to
his oar, wielding it with all the strength in his arms, and only
thinking of the one purpose,--to make way against the wind. Fortunately
the breeze, already gentle, seemed each moment to grow gentler,--as if
unwilling to oppose his efforts in the cause of humanity; and little
William perceived, to his great gratification, that the casks already
passed by the _Catamaran_ were falling far into her wake. This proved
that he must be gaining upon the others.

All at once a glad sight came suddenly under his eyes. Earnestly
occupied with the oar, he had permitted more than a minute to elapse
without casting a glance ahead. When at length he renewed his lookout
to windward, he was surprised to see, not only the cask and the
sea-chest still nearer but on the top of the latter, a something that
was not there before. Something that lay along the lid, with arms
stretched downwards, and hands clutching its projecting edges. He also
perceived two dark rounded objects in the water,--one near each end of
the chest,--one rounder and blacker than the other, but both easily
distinguishable as the heads of human beings.

The singular tableau was at once understood. Lilly Lalee was on the top
of the sea-kit; Snowball and Ben Brace were flanking it, one at each
end. The chest was supporting all three. Hurrah! they were saved!

Little William, at that moment, felt certain they would be saved; though
that joyful certainty had not yet been communic