The Island Queen | Page 3

two men who had just perished. A
corner of the blanket had caught on the end of one of the floor-planks.
In disengaging it Dominick chanced to raise the plank which was loose,
and observed something like a bundle lying underneath. Curiosity
prompted him to examine it. He found that it was wrapped in canvas,
and carefully tied with cord. Opening it he discovered to his surprise
and intense joy that it contained some ship's biscuit, a piece of boiled
pork, and a flask of water.
Only those who have been suddenly presented with food and drink,
while starving can appreciate the feelings that filled the heart of the
poor youth with laughter and thanksgiving; but his joy was not selfish,
for the prospect of immediate personal relief had but a secondary place
in his thoughts.
Hastening with the inestimable treasure to the place where his brother
and sister lay, he carefully spread it out on a piece of sailcloth, and cut
a few thin slices of the pork before arousing them.
"Awake, sister, and eat!" he said at last, gently shaking Pauline by the
shoulder.
"O Dominick!" she exclaimed, raising herself, and gazing eagerly at the
food. "I was dreaming of this when you awoke me!"
"That's odd, now," said little Otto, who had also been aroused, "for I
was dreaming of eating! And I am so hung--"
He got no further, for, having clutched a handful of biscuit, he suddenly
stopped the way of utterance.
"How good of you, Dom!" said Pauline, eating with as much relish,
though not with such voracity, as her little brother, "Where did you get

this?"
"No matter; eat and be thankful," said Dominick curtly, for he was
himself eating with wolfish haste by that time. He restrained himself,
however, after a few minutes.
"Hold! We must not indulge too freely. It will hurt us after fasting so
long. Besides, this supply is very small, and must be made to last as
long as possible. No, my boy, you must eat no more at this time, but
you may drink a little."
About a table-spoonful of water was measured out to each, and then the
remainder of the food was carefully wrapped up and put away.
"Do you think that this supply was hidden by one of the poor fellows
who left us this morning?" asked Pauline.
"I think so; and no doubt his motive was a good one. You know he was
very fond of his messmate. I should think he saved up his allowance to
help him; but, whatever the motive, it has proved a blessing to us--"
He ceased speaking, for both sister and little brother had drooped their
weary heads, and were again in a heavy slumber. Dominick himself felt
intensely the desire to follow their example, but he resisted it, feeling
that it was his duty to watch for the long-expected sail that never
appeared. At first his efforts were successful, but by degrees the
tendency to sleep became so overpowering that his struggles were
unavailing. Sense of duty and every other motive gave way before it;
his head finally dropped forward, and, with a heavy sigh of
contentment, he followed his brother and sister to the land of Nod.
Profound, prolonged, and refreshing was that sweet slumber, after the
first good meal these poor castaways had eaten for many days. The
weather fortunately continued bright and warm, so that they did not
suffer so much from exposure as on previous days, and the gentle
rocking of the boat tended to deepen and prolong their repose.
Thus they floated peacefully during the greater part of that day--the one

solitary speck on the surface of the great ocean, for the albatross
seemed to have finally forsaken them.
Towards noon a light westerly breeze sprang up. It was not sufficient to
raise a sea or disturb the sleepers, but, in conjunction with ocean
currents, it drifted them to the south-east at a considerable rate, so that
in the evening, without the aid of oar or sail, they were far from the
spot upon the sea where we introduced them to the reader.
At last Dominick awoke with a long-drawn sigh, and, raising his head,
looked over the side of the boat. An exclamation of surprise and joy
broke from him, for there, like a speck, where something like a heavy
bank of clouds rested on the horizon, was the long-expected sail.
His first impulse was to awaken the sleepers, but he checked himself.
He would look more carefully. His eyes might be deceiving him, and
the disappointment, if he should be mistaken, would be overwhelming.
He would spare them that. Rising to his feet he shaded his eyes with
one hand, and gazed long and earnestly.
The longer he looked, however, and