In the meantime, Amine had kept up her courage and her spirits; proving to Philip a valuable adviser and a comforter in his misfortunes.  “Cheer up, Philip,” would she say; “we shall yet build our cottage under the shade of those cocoa-nut trees, and pass a portion, if not the remainder of our lives in peace; for who indeed is there who would think to find us in these desolate and untrodden regions?”

Schriften was quiet and well-behaved; talked much with Amine, but with nobody else.  Indeed he appeared to have a stronger feeling in favour of Amine than he had ever shown before.  He watched over her and attended her; and Amine would often look up after being silent, and perceived Schriften’s face wear an air of pity and melancholy, which she had believed it impossible that he could have exhibited.

Another day passed; again they neared the land, and again did the breeze die away, and they were swept back by the current.  The men now rose, and in spite of the endeavours of Philip and Krantz, they rolled into the sea all the provisions and stores, everything but one cask of spirits and the remaining stock of water; they then sat down at the upper end of the raft with gloomy, threatening looks, and in close consultation.

Another night closed in:  Philip was full of anxiety.  Again he urged them to anchor with their money, but in vain; they ordered him away, and he returned to the after part of the raft, upon which Amine’s secure retreat had been erected; he leant on it in deep thought and melancholy, for he imagined that Amine was asleep.

“What disturbs you, Philip?”

“What disturbs me?  The avarice and folly of these men.  They will die, rather than risk their hateful money.  They have the means of saving themselves and us, and they will not.  There is weight enough in bullion on the fore part of the raft to hold a dozen floating masses such as this, yet they will not risk it.  Cursed love of gold! it makes men fools, madmen, villains.  We have now but two days’ water—­doled out as it is drop by drop.  Look at their emaciated, broken down, wasted forms, and yet see how they cling to money, which probably they will never have occasion for, even if they gain the land.  I am distracted!”

“You suffer, Philip, you suffer from privation; but I have been careful, I thought that this would come; I have saved both water and biscuit—­I have here four bottles;—­drink, Philip, and it will relieve you.”

Philip drank; it did relieve him, for the excitement of the day had pressed heavily on him.

“Thanks, Amine—­thanks, dearest!  I feel better now.—­Good Heaven! are there such fools as to value the dross of metal above one drop of water in a time of suffering and privation such as this?”