In Search of an Unknown Race — page 207: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

VAN. 193 alternate waves, to attract the attention of whoever might be on the lookout. Qn came the ship, sending a column of foaming water from either side of the sharp stem. He could see the men at work in the rigging, could count the reef-points against the bellying white sails, and even read the name on the quarter-boards—the ‘‘ Fred Bel- lingham.” In vain Van tried to shout. His voice died away in a hoarse, inarticulate murmur, as the ship swept grandly past not half a cable’s length away. In vain he swung his arms. No one seemed to be looking outboard, ex- cepting the master, who, standing near the motionless helmsman, was apparently watching the moving spar, now along way from Van himself, through his bino- culars. ‘‘It is no use,” was Van’s despairing thought, as he sank in a great valley of the sea and lost sight of the ship for the moment. ‘‘It is no use.” And that his mind was partly unhinged by the terrors of his situa- tion, Van says he is well assured. For with a vague idea of suffering himself to sink rather than linger for days, it might be, in protracted agony, Van feebly tried to slip himself out of the life- buoy’s embrace. But fortunately he was too weak, so after one or two ineffectual attempts, he gave it up, and, closing his eyes, sank into the state of torpor induced by immer- sion in salt water, weakness and hunger. Thus it was that he did not see a sudden change in the ship’s movement, as her captain, by the meres chance, or, as I prefer to call it, Providence, turned his Gomichooks