I
went towards him, for, detestable as his conduct had been, common
humanity prompted me to see whether I could afford him any
relief. But before I reached him, a shout from Flaypole arrested
my attention.
The man was up in the mast, and with great excitement pointing to
the east.
"A ship! A ship!" he cried.
In an instant all were on their feet. Even Owen stopped his
cries and stood erect. It was quite true that in the direction
indicated by Flaypole there was a white speck visible upon the
horizon. But did it move? Would the sailors with their keen
vision pronounce it to be a sail? A silence the most profound
fell upon us all. I glanced at Curtis as he stood with folded
arms intently gazing at the distant point. His brow was
furrowed, and he contracted every feature, as with half-closed
eyes, he concentrated his power of vision upon that one faint
spot in the far-off horizon.
But at length he dropped his arms and shook his head. I looked
again, but the spot was no longer there. If it were a ship, that
ship had disappeared; but probably it had been a mere reflection,
or, more likely still, only the crest of some curling wave.
A deep dejection followed this phantom ray of hope. All returned
to their accustomed places. Curtis alone remained motionless,
but his eye no longer scanned the distant view.
Owen now began to shriek more wildly than ever. He presented
truly a most melancholy sight; he writhed with the most hideous
contortions, and had all the appearance of suffering from
tetanus.
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