the dismal scene, and lit up the strained, white faces of those watching
for the lights of the ship that was safe, and which, either not seeing or
not heeding their distress, had disappeared from view.

During the night the wind blew high and chill, the sea increased in fury,
and the ship groaned and shuddered at each fresh onslaught. Fowler,
however, was hard at work constructing a raft, ready for launching at
dawn, and his men, exhausted as they were, bore themselves as do most
British seamen in the hour of death and danger.

Flinders meanwhile had succeeded in reaching the lagoon within the reef,
and he and his men jumped out of the boat, and walked to and fro in the
shallow water to keep themselves warm and out of the wind; but they sought
in vain to discern the lights of the _Bridgewater_. But the _Bridgewater_
had sailed on to meet another fate. She reached India safely, then left
again for England, and was never afterwards heard of. It is difficult to
understand how her people could have avoided seeing the others' distress;
it is harder still to believe that, seeing their plight, the
_Bridgewater's_ company could have thus deserted the castaways. Of course,
this explanation would have been demanded, but the _Bridgewater_ was an
"overdue" ship long before the news of the disaster arrived in England.

As the sun rose, the scene looked less hopeless, and the men found that
they were near a small sandbank, on which were a quantity of seabirds'
eggs. Close by were the _Porpoise_ and _Cato_ still holding together on
the reef. Returning to the former ship, Flinders at once sent a boat to
rescue the exhausted crew of the _Cato_, who flung themselves into the
waves, and were picked up safely.

Then all hands from both wrecks--marvellous to say, only three men were