Page 236 - for-the-term-of-his-natural-life

back to freedom and give him again into bondage.
But the days stole on, and no vessel appeared. Each day
they eagerly scanned the watery horizon; each day they
longed to behold the bowsprit of the returning Ladybird
glide past the jutting rock that shut out the view of the har-
bour—but in vain. Mrs. Vickers’s illness increased, and the
stock of provisions began to run short. Dawes talked of put-
ting himself and Frere on half allowance. It was evident that,
unless succour came in a few days, they must starve.
Frere mooted all sorts of wild plans for obtaining food.
He would make a journey to the settlement, and, swimming
the estuary, search if haply any casks of biscuit had been left
behind in the hurry of departure. He would set springes
for the seagulls, and snare the pigeons at Liberty Point. But
all these proved impracticable, and with blank faces they
watched their bag of flour grow smaller and smaller daily.
Then the notion of escape was broached. Could they con-
struct a raft? Impossible without nails or ropes. Could they
build a boat? Equally impossible for the same reason. Could
they raise a fire sufficient to signal a ship? Easily; but what
ship would come within reach of that doubly-desolate spot?
Nothing could be done but wait for a vessel, which was sure
to come for them sooner or later; and, growing weaker day
by day, they waited.
One morning Sylvia was sitting in the sun reading the
‘English History’, which, by the accident of fright, she had
brought with her on the night of the mutiny. ‘Mr. Frere,’
said she, suddenly, ‘what is an alchemist?’
‘A man who makes gold,’ was Frere’s not very accurate