"
So he unstepped his mast, stowed it in the boat's bottom, and lay down
on the sail. The sun dazzled him and he drew his hat over his eyes.
Probably his wound and weakness made him drowsy, for he fell asleep.
When he again awoke the sun was nearly overhead. The hot glare was
stifling. His very clothing seemed to burn his flesh. He staggered to
his feet and looked around the horizon wearily.
Suddenly his eyes brightened and his whole figure became animated and
eager.
CHAPTER XXIV.
Ralph's Sufferings.
Low down in the northwestern horizon was a faint speck of white.
Everywhere else the blue of the sky and ocean was unrelieved. The
"mares' tails" of clouds had disappeared and the sea was a gently
heaving plain of glass.
"A sail!" exclaimed the boy. "It must be a sail."
He hurriedly set up his mast again and hastened back to the tiller.
But there was no wind; the canvas hung limp, while the sun was broiling
the paint on the little forward deck.
"I don't suppose they can see me," thought he dejectedly. "It must be
only their topsails that I see, and so small a boat as this would be
invisible. Perhaps if they had a glass at the mast head, they might
find me. Oh, if I only had a wind!"
Reflection, however, convinced him that a breeze would be as apt to
carry the strange vessel off as to bring it nearer, so he was fain to
sit still and idly watch the tiny dot of white, which meant so much,
yet might do so little.
The isolation of his position pressed upon him harder than ever.
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