By this time the sun was well up, and the warmth of the hour, season, and latitude, was shed on the sufferers.  There was an old sail in the boat, and in this the party dried their limbs and feet, which were getting to be numb by their long immersion.  Then the mate produced the bag and opened it, in quest of bread.  A small portion was given to each, and, on looking farther, the mate discovered that a piece of boiled ship’s beef had been secreted in this receptacle.  Of this also he gave each a moderate slice, taking a larger portion for himself, as requiring less precaution.  The suffering of the party from hunger was far less than that they endured from thirst.  Neither had been endured long enough seriously to enfeeble them or render a full meal very dangerous, but the thirst had been much the hardest to be borne.  Of this fact Biddy soon gave audible evidence.

“The mate is good,” she said, “and the bread tastes swate and refreshing, but wather is a blessed thing.  Can you no give us one dhrap of the wather that falls from heaven, Mr. Mulford; for this wather of the saa is of no use but to drown Christians in?”

In an instant the mate had opened a breaker, and filled the tin pot which is almost always to be found in a boat.  Biddy said no more, but her eyes pleaded so eloquently, that Rose begged the faithful creature might have the first drink.  One eager swallow went down, and then a cry of disappointment succeeded.  The water was salt, and had been put in the breaker for ballast.  The other breaker was tried with the same success.

“It is terrible to be without one drop of water,” murmured Rose, “and this food makes it more necessary than ever.”

“Patience, patience, dearest Rose—­patience for ten minutes, and you shall all drink,” answered the mate, filling the sail and keeping the boat away while speaking.  “There is water, God be praised, on the rock to which I first swam, and we will secure it before another day’s sun help to make it evaporate.”

This announcement quieted the longings of those who endured a thirst which disappointment rendered doubly hard to bear; and away the boat glided toward the rock.  As he now flew over the distance, lessened more than one-half by the drift of the wreck, Mulford recalled the scene through which he had so painfully passed the previous night.  As often happens, he shuddered at the recollection of things which, at the moment, a desperate resolution had enabled him to encounter with firmness.  Still, he thought nothing less than the ardent desire to save Rose could have carried him through the trial with the success which attended his struggles.  The dear being at his side asked a few explanations of what had passed; and she bowed her head and wept, equally with pain and delight, as imagination pictured to her the situation of her betrothed, amid that waste of water, with his fearful companions, and all in the hours of deep night.

But that was over now.  There was the rock—­the blessed rock on which Mulford had so accidentally struck, close before them—­and presently they were all on it.  The mate took the pot and ran to the little reservoir, returning with a sweet draught for each of the party.