All had passed away, but the deep dye on the surface of the ocean.  The gorged fish disappeared; but the dark spot remained near the immovable raft, as if placed there to warn the survivors of their fate.

“This is horrible!” said Ludlow.

“A sail!” shouted the Skimmer, whose voice and tone, breaking in on that moment of intense horror and apprehension, sounded like a cry from the heavens.  “My gallant brigantine!”

“God grant she come with better fortune than those who have so lately left us!”

“God grant it, truly!  If this hope fail, there is none left.  Few pass here, and we have had sufficient proof that our top-gallants are not so lofty as to catch every eye.”

All attention was now bestowed on the white speck which was visible on the margin of the ocean, and which the ‘Skimmer of the Seas’ confidently pronounced to be the Water-Witch.  None but a seaman could have felt this certainty; for, seen from the low raft, there was little else to be distinguished but the heads of the upper sails.  The direction too was unfavorable, as it was to leeward; but both Ludlow and the free-trader assured their companions, that the vessel was endeavoring to beat in with the land.

The two hours that succeeded lingered like days of misery.  So much depended on a variety of events, that every circumstance was noted by the seamen of the party, with an interest bordering on agony.  A failure of the wind might compel the vessel to remain stationary, and then both brigantine and raft would be at the mercy of the uncertain currents of the ocean; a change of wind might cause a change of course, and render a meeting impossible; an increase of the breeze might cause destruction, even before the succor could come.  In addition to these obvious hazards, there were all the chances which were dependent on the fact that the people of the brigantine had every reason to believe the fate of the party was already sealed.

Still, fortune seemed propitious; for the breeze, though steady, was light, the intention of the vessel was evidently to pass somewhere near them, and the hope that their object was search, so strong and plausible, as to exhilarate every bosom.

At the expiration of the time named, the brigantine passed the raft to leeward, and so near as to render the smaller objects in her rigging distinctly visible.

“The faithful fellows are looking for us!” exclaimed the free-trader, with strong emotion in his voice.  “They are men to scour the coast, ere they abandon us!”

“They pass us—­wave the signal—­it may catch their eyes!”

The little flag was unheeded, and, after so long and so intense expectation, the party on the raft had the pain to see the swift-moving vessel glide past them, and drawing so far ahead as to leave little hope of her return.  The heart of even the ‘Skimmer of the Seas’ appeared to sink within him, at the disappointment.