The heavy drops splashed and broke on top of the jolly-boat, and,
as the wind came up, it rode behind us like a live thing.
Our distress signal hung sodden, too wet to give more than a
dejected response to the wind that tugged at it. Late in the
afternoon we sighted a large steamer, and when, as darkness came
on, she showed no indication of changing her course, Burns and I
sent up a rocket and blew the fog horn steadily. She altered her
course then and came towards us, and we ran up our code flags for
immediate assistance; but she veered off shortly after, and went
on her way. We made no further effort to attract her attention.
Burns thought her a passenger steamer for the Bermudas, and, as
her way was not ours, she could not have been of much assistance.
One or two of the men were already showing signs of strain. Oleson,
the Swede, developed a chill, followed by fever and a mild delirium,
and Adams complained of sore throat and nausea. Oleson's illness
was genuine enough. Adams I suspected of malingering. He had told
the men he would not go up to the crow's-nest again without a
revolver, and this I would not permit.
Our original crew had numbered nine--with the cook and Williams,
eleven. But the two Negroes were not seamen, and were frightened
into a state bordering on collapse.
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