PICKED UP. 95

up any of her crew who might have escaped.
Paul, however, did not seem to wish this as much
as I did. I saw him narrowly watching the vessel,
then he shook his head as if he did not like her
looks.

The sun rose high in the sky, and beat down on
our heads. My thirst became intolerable, and
whatever might be the character of the stranger, I
could not help longing that she would pick us up.
The breeze came at last, her sails filled. How
eagerly I watched her.

‘She is standing towards us,’ I cried out, ‘ we
must soon be seen.’ I stood up on a thwart and
waved a handkerchief.

‘ Better not Massa Harry,’ said Paul, but I did
not heed him.

The schooner came on rapidly. . Again I waved
my handkerchief, and held it between my two
hands, so that it might flutter in the breeze. The
stranger approached. She was a fine large square
topsail schooner, with a black hull and taunt raking
masts. She rounded to close to us, so that she
could drop down to where our boat lay.

A rope was hove to us, and I clambered up her
side, Paul following me. We were both so weak