Even Ludlow cast
an uneasy look at the heavens, when they came upon his ear, as if they
conveyed a secret notice of the whole extremity of the danger by which
they were environed. None answered; and a long silence succeeded, during
which some of the more fatigued slumbered uneasily, spite of their fearful
situation.
In this manner did the night pass, in weariness and anxiety. Little was
said, and for hours scarce a limb was moved, in the group that clustered
around the mess-chest. As the signs of day appeared, however, every
faculty was keenly awake, to catch the first signs of what they had to
hope, or the first certainty of what they had to fear.
The surface of the ocean was still smooth, though the long swells in which
the element was heaving and setting, sufficiently indicated that the raft
had floated far from the land. This fact was rendered sure, when the
light, which soon appeared along the eastern margin of the narrow view,
was shed gradually over the whole horizon. Nothing was at first visible,
but one gloomy and vacant waste of water. But a cry of joy from Seadrift,
whose senses had long been practised in ocean sights, soon drew all eyes
in the direction opposite to that of the rising sun, and it was not long
before all on the low raft had a view of the snowy surfaces of a ship's
sails, as the glow of morning touched the canvas.
"It is the Frenchman!" said the free-trader. "He is charitably looking for
the wreck of his late enemy!"
"It may be so, for our fate can be no secret to him;" was the answer of
Ludlow.
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