young man was endeavouring to reach the margin of the passage, where a good deal of rock was above water, and near to which he had already managed to reach.  At one time Jack saw that the mate was obliged to swim, and he actually lost sight of him for a time.  His form, however, reappeared, and then it slowly emerged from the water, and stood erect on a bare rock of some extent.  Jack breathed freer at this; for Mulford was now on the very margin of the channel, and might be easily reached by the boat, should he prevail on Josh, or Simon, to attempt the rescue.

At first, Jack Tier fancied that Mulford had knelt to return thanks on his arrival at a place of comparative safety; but a second look satisfied him that Harry was drinking from one of the little pools of fresh water left by the late shower.  When he rose from drinking, the young man walked about the place, occasionally stooping, signs that he was picking up shell-fish for his supper.  Suddenly, Mulford darted forward, and passed beyond the field of the glass.  When Jack found him again, he was in the act of turning a small turtle, using his knife on the animal immediately after.  Had Jack been in danger of starvation himself, and found a source of food as ample and as grateful as this, he could scarcely have been more delighted.  The light now began to wane perceptibly, still Harry’s movements could be discerned.  The turtle was killed and dressed, sufficiently at least for the mate’s purposes, and the latter was seen collecting sea-weed, and bits of plank, boards, and sticks of wood, of which more or less, in drifting past, had lodged upon the rocks.  “Is it possible,” thought Jack, “that he is so werry partic’lar he can’t eat his turtle raw!  Will he, indeed, venture to light a fire, or has he the means?” Mulford was so particular, however, he did venture to light a fire, and he had the means.  This may be said to be the age of matches—­not in a connubial, though in an inflammatory sense—­and the mate had a small stock in a tight box that he habitually carried on his person.  Tier saw him at work over a little pile he had made for a long time, the beams of day departing now so fast as to make him fearful he should soon lose his object in the increasing obscurity of twilight.  Suddenly a light gleamed, and the pile sent forth a clear flame.  Mulford went to and fro, collecting materials to feed his fire, and was soon busied in cooking his turtle.  All this Tier saw and understood, the light of the flames coming in proper time to supply the vacuum left by the departure of that of day.

In a minute Tier had no difficulty in seeing the fire that Mulford had lighted on his low and insulated domains with the naked eye.  It gleamed brightly in that solitary place; and the steward was much afraid it would be seen by some one on deck, get to be reported to Spike, and lead to Harry’s destruction after all.  The mate appeared to be insensible to his danger, however, occasionally casting piles of dry