We dreaded the approach of morning as much as we longed for it. The
morning would tell us all. Was it possible for the Dolphin to
outride such a storm? There was a lighthouse on Mackerel Reef,
which lay directly in the course the boat had taken when it
disappeared. If the Dolphin had caught on this reef, perhaps Binny
Wallace was safe. Perhaps his cries had been heard by the keeper of
the light. The man owned a life-boat, and had rescued several
persons. Who could tell?

Such were the questions we asked ourselves again and again, as we
lay huddled together waiting for daybreak. What an endless night it
was! I have known months that did not seem so long.

Our position was irksome rather than perilous; for the day was
certain to bring us relief from the town, where our prolonged
absence, together with the storm, had no doubt excited the
liveliest alarm for our safety. But the cold, the darkness, and the
suspense were hard to bear.

Our soaked jackets had chilled us to the bone. In order to keep
warm we lay so closely that we could hear our hearts beat above the
tumult of sea and sky.

After a while we grew very hungry, not having broken our fast since
early in the day. The rain had turned the hard-tack into a sort of
dough; but it was better than nothing.

We used to laugh at Fred Langdon for always carrying in his pocket
a small vial of essence of peppermint or sassafras, a few drops of