OCTOBER 30.—At the first gleam of daylight we eagerly scanned the southern and western horizons, but the morning mists limited our view. Land was nowhere to be seen. The tide was now almost at its lowest ebb1, and the color of the few peaks of rock that jutted2 up around us showed that the reef on which we had stranded3 was of basaltic formation. There were now only about six feet of water around the Chancellor4, though with a full freight she draws about fifteen. It was remarkable5 how far she had been carried on to the shelf of rock, but the number of times that she had touched the bottom before she finally ran aground left us no doubt that she had been lifted up and borne along on the top of an enormous wave. She now lies with her stern considerably6 higher than her bows, a position which renders walking upon the deck anything but an easy matter, moreover as the tide receded7 she heeled over so much to larboard that at one time Curtis feared she would altogether capsize; that fear, however, since the tide has reached its lowest mark, has happily proved groundless.
At six o'clock some violent blows were felt against the ship's side, and at the same time a voice was distinguished8, shouting loudly, "Curtis! Curtis!" Following the direction of the cries we saw that the broken mizzen-mast was being washed against the vessel9, and in the dusky morning twilight10 we could make out the figure of a man clinging to the rigging. Curtis, at the peril11 of his life, hastened to bring the man on board. It proved to be none other than Silas Huntly, who, after being carried overboard with the mast, had thus, almost by a miracle, escaped a watery12 grave. Without a word of thanks to his deliverer, the ex-captain, passive, like an automaton13, passed on and took his seat in the most secluded14 corner of the poop. The broken mizzen may, perhaps, be of service to us at some future time, and with that idea it has been rescued from the waves and lashed15 securely to the stern.
By this time it was light enough to see for a distance of three miles round; but as yet nothing could be discerned to make us think that we were near a coast. The line of breakers ran for about a mile from southwest to northeast, and two hundred fathoms16 to the north of the ship an irregular mass of rocks formed a small islet. This islet rose about fifty feet above the sea, and was consequently above the level of the highest tides; while a sort of causeway, available at low water, would enable us to reach the island, if necessity required. But there the reef ended; beyond it the sea again resumed its somber17 hue18, betokening19 deep water. In all probability, then, this was a solitary20 shoal, unattached to a shore, and the gloom of a bitter disappointment began to weigh upon our spirits.
In another hour the mists had totally disappeared, and it was broad daylight. I and M. Letourneur stood watching Curtis as he continued eagerly to scan the western horizon. Astonishment21 was written on his countenance22; to him it appeared perfectly23 incredible that, after our course for so long had been due south from the Bermudas, no land should be in sight. But not a speck24, however minute, broke the clearly-defined line that joined sea and sky. After a time Curtis made his way along the netting to the shrouds25, and swung himself quickly up to the top of the mainmast. For several minutes he remained there examining the open space around, then seizing one of the backstays he glided26 down and rejoined us on the poop.
"No land in sight," he said, in answer to our eager looks.
At this point Mr. Kear interposed, and in a gruff, ill-tempered tone, asked Curtis where we were. Curtis replied that he did not know.
"You don't know, sir? Then all I can say is that you ought to know!" exclaimed the petroleum27 merchant.
"That may be, sir; but at present I am as ignorant of our whereabouts as you are yourself," said Curtis.
"Well," said Mr. Kear, "just please to know that I don't want to stay forever on your everlasting28 ship, so I beg you will make haste and start off again."
Curtis condescended29 to make no other reply than a shrug30 of the shoulders, and turning away he informed M. Letourneur and myself that if the sun came out he intended to take its altitude and find out to what part of the ocean we had been driven.
His next care was to distribute preserved meat and biscuit among the passengers and crew already half fainting with hunger and fatigue31, and then he set to work to devise measures for setting the ship afloat.
The conflagration32 was greatly abated33; no flames now appeared, and although some black smoke s............