These words spoken by Burkett again revived my hopes.  Still not a sound reached us.  We could distinguish no signal from the shore to give us hope.  Blacker and blacker grew the night.  More keenly whistled the wind.  The sea-birds' shriek, echoing it seemed from the caverned rocks, sounded like a funeral wail.  We fancied that many a fierce albatross was hovering over our heads, to pounce down on us when nature gave way before our sufferings.