Now they made good progress seawards, but the anxieties of those who knew were very great, since the wind showed signs of rising, and if any swell should spring up that crowded cutter could scarcely hope to live.  In fact, two hours later they were forced to lower the sail again and drift, waiting for the dawn.  Mr. Thompson strove to cheer them, saying that now they were in the track of vessels, and if they could see none when the light came, he would run along the shore in the hope of finding a place free of breakers where they might land.  If they did not inspire hope, at least his words calmed them, and they sat in heavy silence, watching the sky.

At length it grew grey, and then, with a sudden glory peculiar to South Africa, the great red sun arose and began to dispel the mist from the surface of the sea.  Half an hour more and this was gone, and now the bright rays brought life back into their chilled frames as they stared at each other to see which of their company were still left alive.  They even asked for food, and biscuit was given to them with water.

All this while Benita remained unconscious.  Indeed, one callous fellow, who had been using her body as a footstool, said that she must be dead, and had better be thrown overboard, as it would lighten the boat.

“If you throw that lady into the sea, living or dead,” said Mr. Thompson, with an ominous lift of his eye, “you go with her, Mr. Batten.  Remember who brought her here and how he died.”

Then Mr. Batten held his peace, while Thompson stood up and scanned the wide expanse of sea.  Presently he whispered to a sailor near him, who also stood up, looked, and nodded.

“That will be the other Line’s intermediate boat,” he said, and the passengers, craning their heads round, saw far away to the right a streak of smoke upon the horizon.  Orders were given, a little corner of sail was hoisted, with a white cloth of some sort tied above it, and the oars were got out.  Once more the cutter moved forward, bearing to the left in the hope of intercepting the steamer.

She came on with terrible swiftness, and they who had miles of water to cover, dared hoist no more sail in that breeze.  In half an hour she was nearly opposite to them, and they were still far away.  A little more sail was let out, driving them through the water at as quick a rate as they could venture to go.  The steamer was passing three miles or so away, and black despair took hold of them.  Now the resourceful Thompson, without apologies, undressed, and removing the white shirt that he had worn at the dance, bade a sailor to tie it to an oar and wave it to and fro.

Still the steamer went on, until presently they heard her siren going, and saw that she was putting about.

“She has seen us,” said Thompson.  “Thank God, all of you, for there is wind coming up.  Pull down that sail; we shan’t need it any more.”