For two days more they sailed or rowed on.

The weather continued unsettled, but fortunately not breaking into a storm.  Sometimes there was a breeze, and again there was a dead calm, when they took turns at the oars.  It was all guesswork as to whether or not they were headed for the island.

The food became less and less, until finally they were living on three dry biscuits a day each.  The water, too, was getting lower and lower in the one cask that remained, and it had a warm, brackish taste.  Still it was the most precious thing they possessed.

More and more worried became the look on Captain Spark’s face.  How anxiously each morning and a dozen times a day did he scan the horizon with his glasses for a sight of the island or a ship!  But nothing was to be seen save the heaving billows.

Mr. Tarbill became weak-minded, and babbled of cooling streams of water and delicious food until Ned Scudd, losing all patience, threatened to throw the nervous man overboard if he did not cease.  This had the effect of quieting him for a while.

The faces of all were haggard and thin.  Their eyes were unnaturally bright.  Poor Bob bore up bravely, though tears came into his eyes as he thought of his father and mother, and the pleasant and happy home now so far away.

“Bob’s as good as a man,” whispered the captain to Mr. Carr, and the first mate nodded an assent.

It was the third day of absolute hopelessness.  The water was reduced to so little that only a small cupful could be served to each one as the day’s supply.  Enough biscuits for two days remained.  They had lost all sense of direction, for a fog obscured the sun.

On the morning of the fourth day Bob awoke from a troubled sleep to find Mr. Carr dozing at the helm.  There was no need to steer, for there had been a dead calm for many hours, and they did not row during the night.

Bob’s tongue felt like a piece of rubber in his mouth.  His throat was parched and dry, and his stomach craved woefully for food.  He stood up on a forward locker, and, taking the captain’s glasses, slowly swept them around the sky-line.

Was it imagination, or did he really see some small black object off to the left?  His heart beat fast, and his nerves were throbbing so he could not hold the glasses steady.

Captain Spark roused himself from a brief nap.  He saw what Bob was doing.

“See anything?” he asked listlessly.

“I don’t know—­I’m not sure—­there’s something off there that looks like——­”

“Let me take the glasses!” cried the commander.

He fairly snatched them from the boy.  With his trained vision he looked long where Bob pointed.  Then he cried: 

“Thank God!  There’s a boat coming toward us.  I think we’re saved!  There are natives in it, but they don’t seem to have any weapons!  I believe they’re from the big island.  Row, men, row as hard as you can and we’ll meet them the sooner!”