HARRY AND PAUL IN A BOAT. 87

fire ran riot fore and aft. Sometimes wearied by
the sight, I put my hands before my eyes to shut
it out, but then I could not help thinking of the sad
fate of the poor captain, whose body lay on its
funeral pile on board.

‘Ah, he happy now,’ whispered Paul. He had
also been thinking of him. ‘ He say he love Jesus;
he trust to Jesus, no fear for him.’

Paul’s words brought consolation to my heart.
Our own condition might well have made me de-
pressed, yet I felt supported by the strong faith of
my companion in a way I formerly should not have
thought possible.

We had no food, and not a drop of fresh water
to quench our burning thirst.

Some way off we could see pieces of burnt
spars floating about. I thought of trying to paddle
the boat up to them with our hands, hoping to find
some which might serve as oars, and enable us to
reach the schooner in the distance. I quickly,
however, gave up the attempt, for scarcely had I
put my hand into the water than I saw a huge
pair of jaws darting towards it, and I had just
time to pull it out before they made a snap close
to me, which would, in a moment, have bitten it off.