gale coming on, and in all probability, a heavy sea and dark night.  The chance was indeed desperate, and Philip was miserable—­most miserable—­when he reflected that so many innocent beings might, before the next morning, be consigned to a watery tomb,—­and why?—­yes, there was the feeling—­that although Philip could reason against, he never could conquer; for his own life he cared nothing—­even the idea of his beloved Amine was nothing in the balance at these moments.  The only point which sustained him, was the knowledge that he had his duty to perform, and, in the full exercise of his duty, he recovered himself.

“Land ahead!” was now cried out by Krantz, who was in the headmost boat, and the news was received with a shout of joy from the raft and the boats.  The anticipation and the hope the news gave was like manna in the wilderness; and the poor women on the raft, drenched sometimes above the waist by the swell of the sea, clasped the children in their arms still closer, and cried—­“My darling, you shall be saved.”

Philip stood upon the stern-sheets to survey the land, and he had the satisfaction of finding that it was not five miles distant, and a ray of hope warmed his heart.  The breeze now had gradually increased, and rippled the water.  The quarter from which the wind came was neither favourable nor adverse, being on the beam.  Had they had sails for the boats, it would have been otherwise, but they had been stowed away and could not be procured.  The sight of land naturally rejoiced them all, and the seamen in the boats cheered, and double-banked the oars to increase their way; but the towing of a large raft sunk under water was no easy task; and they did not, with all their exertions, advance more than half a mile an hour.

Until noon they continued their exertions, not without success; they were not three miles from the land; but, as the sun passed the meridian, a change took place; the breeze blew strong; the swell of the sea rose rapidly; and the raft was often so deeply immersed in the waves as to alarm them for the safety of those upon her.  Their way was proportionally retarded, and by three o’clock they had not gained half-a-mile from where they had been at noon.  The men not having had refreshment of any kind during the labour and excitement of so many hours, began to flag in their exertions.  The wish for water was expressed by all—­from the child who appealed to its mother, to the seaman who strained at the oar.  Philip did all he could to encourage the men; but finding themselves so near to the land, and so overcome with fatigue, and that the raft in tow would not allow them to approach their haven, they murmured, and talked of the necessity of casting loose the raft and looking out for themselves.  A feeling of self prevailed, and they were mutinous:  but Philip expostulated with them, and out of respect for him, they continued their exertions for another hour, when a circumstance occurred which decided the question, upon which they had recommenced a debate.