"Ay, ay, sir; that's gospel truth. I remember it perfectly," murmured two or three of the men, interrupting.

"Of course," assented Leslie, "you could not have avoided noticing it. It was after that occurrence that I remonstrated with him; and for a few days thereafter he was better. Then he began again, finally giving way altogether, with the melancholy result that you have all witnessed. I knew how injurious to his interests it would be, and how seriously it would weaken discipline if you men should once come to understand that your skipper was a drunkard; so I let it be understood among you that Mr Purchas was confined to his cabin through a slight illness; while, as a matter of fact, he was all the time lying there in a drunken stupor.

"Now, when it is too late, I feel that I committed an error of judgment in attempting to conceal from you all the actual facts. Instead of being so keenly anxious to shield him that I could think of nothing else, I ought to have anticipated the possibility that upon his return to consciousness he might be tempted to do something foolish; and, anticipating this, I ought to have told off a man from each watch to sit with and keep an eye upon him."

"Ay," observed the carpenter, "it might ha' been a good thing to ha' done that, certingly. But you haven't got nothin' to reproach yourself with, sir; you done what you did with a good and kind intention; and you wasn't to know that the fust thing he'd do when he come back to his senses 'd be to up and jump overboard. Oh no, sir, you ain't to blame in noways for what's happened. What do you say, bullies?"

"No, no; in course the gen'leman ain't to blame; nobody what's seen how the land lay—like we have—and how Mr Leslie have been a-doin' all he could to help the skipper, could ever say as he's any way to blame. Not he!" answered one and another of the men, each of them in one way or another endorsing the carpenter's verdict.

"Thank you, men," returned Leslie; "it is a great relief to me to feel that you think as you do in this matter. Now, that being disposed of, there is a further point to be considered; and it is this. The shocking fate of Mr Purchas leaves us with no navigator on board save myself. I have no great desire to proceed in this brig all the way to Valparaiso; but, nevertheless, there are reasons that, to me, seem to make it desirable that I should do so. I may tell you that we are now very near the Line; so near, indeed, that we may fall in with other craft, aiming to cross it at the same point as ourselves, at any moment. Now if we should fall in with a ship, would you wish me to communicate with her and ask her captain to place a navigating officer on board this brig, to take her to Valparaiso; or would you prefer that I should take charge— with Chips, here, as mate—and navigate you to Valparaiso myself?"

"Speakin' for myself," answered the carpenter, promptly, "I don't want nobody better'n what you are, Mr Leslie, in command of this here hooker. We knows you, sir; and we've seen what you can do—we've took your measure, sir—if you'll forgive the liberty of my plain speakin'— and we're all agreed as you're a prime seaman—one o' the best as I've ever sailed under—and I'd a precious sight sooner see you in command than what I would a stranger. And, if I ain't mistook, that's the feelin' with all hands of us. Am I right, mates, or ain't I?"

"Right you are, Chips; no stranger for me."

"Mr Leslie's the skipper for us; we don't want nobody else." Thus, and in similar terms, the entire crew expressed their perfect agreement with the view enunciated by the carpenter; and there and then the matter was settled.

It was with a very considerable amount of trepidation that, next morning, Leslie undertook the task of communicating to Miss Trevor the news of Purchas's death—taking care to suppress the full horror of the tragedy by simply stating that the unfortunate fellow had committed suicide by jumping overboard, omitting all mention of the shark. But although the girl was naturally much shocked at the occurrence of a second death on board, following so quickly upon that of Potter, this was the full extent of her emotion; Purchas was not at all the sort of man to appeal to her or to arouse in her any sort of interest or feeling beyond that of disgust at his weakness in surrendering himself to the seduction of so degrading a vice as that of drink; and she received the information quite calmly, much to her companion's relief.

Meanwhile, and quite contrary to expectation, the breeze again freshened an hour or so before sunrise, with the result that when Leslie took his observation at noon he found that the brig was within a mile of crossing the equator. And, what was a much more remarkable circumstance, the horizon was still absolutely bare, not a single sail of any description being in sight, even from the main royal-yard!

Upon ascertaining this last disconcerting fact, Leslie turned to Miss Trevor, who was on deck, and said—

"Fate appears to have a grudge against you, and to be determined that you shall not yet leave us. I had confidently reckoned upon falling in with something hereabout to which I could transfer you; but the continuance of this breeze—which most sailors would regard as a stroke of marvellous good fortune—has enabled everything bound south to slip across the Line without suffering the exasperating experience of a more or less prolonged period of calm; while, as your ill-luck will have it, there happens to be nothing northward-bound on the spot just when we are most anxious to meet it. Furthermore, every mile that we now sail will lessen your chance of effecting a trans-shipment, because our course will be ever diverging from that of northward-bound shipping. Of course, now that I am in command, I can continue to steer for a day or two longer in such a direction as may enable us, with luck, still to fall in with a homeward-bounder, but—"

"Is my presence on the ship then, so very embarrassing to you, Mr Leslie?" she interrupted with the ghost of a smile. "It would certainly appear so; for the burden of your conversation, ever since we came on board, has been my trans-shipment!"

"Embarrassing!" ejaculated Leslie, in extreme surprise. "Most certainly not; on the contrary—" he interrupted himself. "That is not the point at all," he continued. "I have assumed—very naturally, I think—that you are anxious either to return home and make a fresh start, or else to continue your outward journey, according as circumstances may determine; and I, on my part, have been most anxious to meet what I conceived to be your wishes. But, as to your presence aboard the brig being an embarrassment to me, I assure you that the longer you are compelled to remain here, the better I shall be pleased."

"Thank you," answered the girl; "I suppose I must accept that admission as a compliment. Well, Mr Leslie, of course you are quite right in assuming that, if a favourable opportunity should offer, I would gladly avail myself of it. But my greatest anxiety is to allay that of my friends; which, I imagine, they will not begin to experience until some little time has elapsed after the date at which the Golden Fleece might reasonably be expected to reach Melbourne. And about that time I should think we ought to be at Valparaiso, ought we not? Very well. In that case, it will be easy for me to despatch from there a reassuring cable message to my Australian friends, following it up with a letter of explanation, and all will be well. Moreover, though you would perhaps never suspect it, I am of a decidedly roving and adventurous disposition, and I shall not at all object to visiting Valparaiso; you need, therefore, worry yourself no further upon that feature of the matter. But, of course, if you would rather not have me—"

"Pray say no more, I beg you," interrupted Leslie. "Your continued presence on board this brig can only be a source of the keenest pleasure and satisfaction to me; and if you can be content to remain, I shall be more than content that you do so."

And thus was settled a matter that was destined to exercise a most important influence upon the lives of these two people.

Singularly enough, within an hour of the occurrence of the above-recorded conversation, a sail was sighted ahead, steering north; which upon her nearer approach proved to be a South Sea whaler, homeward-bound. She was steering a course that promised to bring the two craft close alongside each other; and at Leslie's suggestion Miss Trevor at once went below and hurriedly penned three letters—one to her people at home, one to her father in India, and one to her friends in Australia—briefly detailing the particulars of the loss of the Golden Fleece and what had subsequently befallen the writer, together with her intention to proceed to Valparaiso, if necessary; after which she would act according to circumstances. At the same time Leslie wrote to the owners of the Golden Fleece apprising them of the loss of the ship, and the fact that, as far as his knowledge went, there were but three survivors, namely, Miss Trevor, himself, and the seaman whom he had taken off the wreckage.

By the time that these letters were ready, the whaler was close at hand, upon which the brig's ensign was hoisted, and the signal made that she wished to communicate. Thereupon both craft were brought to the wind, and hove-to; the brig's quarter-boat was lowered, and the carpenter, with three hands, pulled alongside the whaler, taking the letters with him, with the request that the skipper would kindly post them at the first port arrived at. This the man readily agreed to do—such little courtesies among seamen being quite usual; and then, with mutual dips of their ensigns, the two craft proceeded upon their respective ways.

The Mermaid was singularly fortunate in the weather experienced by her on this occasion of crossing the Line, as it often happens that ships in these latitudes are detained—sometimes for weeks—by persistent calms, during the prevalence of which, by constantly box-hauling the yards and taking the utmost advantage of every little draught of air that comes along, they may succeed in gaining a mile or two in the course of every twenty-four hours; whereas she carried a breeze with her that ran her, without a pause, from the north-east trades, across the calm belt, right into the south-east trade winds, which happened just then to be blowing fresh. She therefore made excellent progress to the southward after parting from the friendly whaler.

It was about a week later that the brig, thrashing along to the southward, close-hauled, and with her fore topgallantsail and main royal stowed, experienced a thrillingly narrow escape from destruction.

It was just two bells in the first watch, that is to say nine o'clock p.m. The night was fine, with bright starlight, and no moon, that luminary happening then to rise late. The wind was piping up strong and sending the trade clouds scurrying across the spangled sky at a great pace; and there was a fair amount of sea running, into which the Mermaid dug her bluff bows viciously, smothering her forecastle with spray and darkening the weather clew of her fore-course with it halfway up to the yard. Miss Trevor was on deck, taking the air, and graciously favouring Leslie with her company for an hour or two prior to turning in for the night. The pair were promenading the deck together, fore and aft, between the stern grating and the mainmast, the girl availing herself of the support of Leslie's arm to steady her upon the dancing deck.

Suddenly, as they were in the act of wheeling round abreast the main rigging, a flash of ruddy light illumined the tumbling surface of the sea, the deck they trod, the sails, and every detail of the brig's equipment; and glancing skyward, they beheld a meteor trailing a long tail of scintillating sparks behind it, high aloft over the brig's port quarter. With inconceivable rapidity the glowing object increased in size, its light meanwhile changing as rapidly from red to a dazzling white, until the light became almost as intense as that of the noonday sun. It was a magnificent spectacle, but one also full of unspeakable horror for those aboard the brig who stood gazing in speechless fascination at it; for it was evident that it was not only falling through the air at a speed far surpassing that of a cannon shot, but was also coming straight for the brig. A deep humming sound that, as it seemed, in the space of a single moment increased to an almost deafening scream, marked the speed of its flight through the air; and as Leslie grasped the fact that in another second that enormous glowing mass—weighing, as he conceived, some hundreds of tons—must infallibly strike the brig and smash her to atoms, he instinctively interposed his own body between his companion and the gigantic hurtling missile—as though such frail protection could have been of any service to her! Then, while it was still some two hundred yards from the brig—at which distance the heat of it fell upon their white upturned faces like the breath of a suddenly opened furnace—the dazzling white-hot mass burst with a deafening explosion into a thousand pieces, some of which flew hurtling over and about the brig, but happily without touching her; and the danger was over. It had come and was gone again in the brief space of some seven seconds.

"That is the narrowest shave I have ever had in my life," ejaculated Leslie, catching his breath. "And you, Miss Trevor, have had an experience such as falls to the lot of few people, I imagine—the experience of being threatened with destruction by a falling meteor, and surviving to tell the tale! I wonder how many others, beside this little ship's company, have ever beheld so appalling and magnificent a sight as we have this night witnessed?"

"Have you any suspicion, Mr Leslie, that this brig is especially marked out and chosen as the theatre for exceptionally thrilling experiences?" quaintly demanded the girl. "Because if there is a probability that such is the case, I really think I shall be obliged to reconsider my decision to proceed to Valparaiso in her, and ask you to land me at the nearest port. The tragic deaths of those two men, Potter and Purchas, were quite thrilling enough to upset the nerves of any ordinary girl; but when it comes to being bombarded by meteors, I would really very much rather be excused."

"Of course you would," assented Leslie, laughingly. "All the same," he continued, "although I must confess that I have never heard of such a thing happening, it might as probably have occurred in the heart of London itself as out here at sea. That meteors actually fall to the earth we know, for there are numerous records of such happenings; they have been seen to fall, and have immediately afterwards been found partially buried in the ground and still hot from the friction of their flight through the air. Precisely where they will fall and strike is necessarily a matter of the merest chance; you are, therefore, so far as falling meteors are concerned, quite as safe here as anywhere else."

"Thank you," answered Miss Trevor, gravely, "it is reassuring to learn that, no matter where I am, I am liable to have a huge incandescent mass of meteoric stone hurtling at me out of space at any moment—for that is what your statement really amounts to, you know—isn't it? And now I will bid you good night and retire to my cabin, with the fixed resolution not to dream of falling meteors."

And therewith she gave him her hand for a moment, and then vanished down the companion-way.



CHAPTER SIX.

THE MERMAID'S CREW WITNESS A CATASTROPHE.

The Mermaid carried the south-east trade winds until she was well south of the parallel of Rio de Janeiro; and then she ran into the Doldrums; these being belts of calm, broken into at intervals by light baffling airs from various directions, with occasional violent squalls, or terrific thunderstorms, just to vary the monotony. These belts of exasperating weather are to be met with to the north of the north-east and the south of the south-east trade winds, interposed between the trade winds and those outer regions where a steady breeze of some sort may usually be reckoned upon.

And here the unfortunate crew of the brig encountered their full share— and a little over, some of them said—of the annoyances that usually accompany a passage across these belts; their first experience being a calm that lasted five days on end without a break, save for the occasional cat's-paw that came stealing from time to time over the glassy surface of the ocean, tinging it here and there with transient patches of delicate evanescent blue. And as these cat's-paws were all that they could rely upon to help them across the calm belt, it was necessary to maintain a constant watch for them, and to trim round the yards in such a manner as to make the most of them during their brief existence. This constant "box-hauling" of the yards was no trifling matter, accomplished as it had to be under the fierce rays of a blazing sun; and as it often happened that after laboriously trimming the yards and sheets to woo a wandering zephyr, it either expired before reaching the brig, or capriciously turned in another direction, passing her by without causing so much as a single flap of her canvas, it is not to be wondered at that the grumbling among all hands was both loud and deep.

At length, however, with the dawn of their sixth day of these vexatious experiences, there appeared to be a prospect of something more helpful than mere cat's-paws coming their way; for although the calm still continued, the morning broke with a dark, lowering, and threatening sky through which the rays of the sun were unable to pierce. This last was in itself a relief to everybody; for although the heat was still so oppressive that the slightest exertion threw one into a profuse perspiration, the stinging bite of the sun was no longer to be reckoned with. Furthermore, the eyes of those on board the brig, weary of continually gazing upon a bare horizon since the day upon which the friendly whaler had vanished from their view, were now gladdened by the sight of another craft, a small barque, that had drifted above the southern horizon during the night, and now lay some five miles away from them.

As the morning wore on towards noon the aspect of the sky steadily, though by insensible degrees, assumed a more threatening character, the huge masses of cloud that overspread the entire dome of the visible sky darkening in tint to such an extent that the scene became enwrapped in a murky kind of twilight. That wind, and plenty of it, was brewing, seemed evident from the fact that the clouds, although not drifting across the sky, were working visibly, writhing and twisting into the most extraordinary and fantastic shapes, as though influenced by some powerful impulse within themselves. One of the most frequent of these manifestations was the sudden darting forth of long sharp quivering tongues from the bodies of the blackest and most lowering of the clouds. With the appearance of the first of these Leslie knew what to expect, for he had beheld the same phenomenon more than once before, and quite understood what it portended. So he turned to Miss Trevor, who was on deck interestedly watching the subtle changes in the aspect of the sky, and said to her—

"Have you ever seen a waterspout, Miss Trevor? No? Then the chances are that you will see several before you are many hours older. Have you noticed those long, black, quivering tongues that dart out and in from the bodies of the darkest clouds? Well, those are the forerunners of waterspouts. See, there is one now. Do you mark how it seems to be striving to reach down to the surface of the sea? Ah! it has shrunk back again. But sooner or later, unless I am greatly mistaken, one of those tongues will reach down, and down, until it begins to suck up a column of water from the ocean; and there you will have a full-grown waterspout."

He gazed round the sky intently; then went to the skylight and as intently studied the barometer—or "glass" as sailors very commonly call the instrument. The mercury in it had fallen somewhat since he had last looked at it, though not sufficiently to cause alarm. Nevertheless, short-handed as the brig was—such small craft are usually sent to sea with at least two hands too few in the forecastle—he deemed it best to err on the right side, if err he must; so as it was by this time noon he ordered eight bells to be struck; and when the watch had come on deck he set them to work to clew up, haul down, and stow everything save the two topsails and the fore-topmast staysail; after which he ordered them to go to dinner.

Dinner in the cabin was served at the same time as in the forecastle on board the Mermaid; when Leslie and Miss Trevor, therefore, went below, the deck was left in charge of one man only, namely the carpenter. This, however, did not particularly matter, since the brig was well snugged down, while Chips might be trusted to keep a sharp look-out and give timely warning of the approach of anything of an alarming nature. Nothing, however, occurred; and Leslie and his companion were allowed to finish their meal undisturbed.

It was now Leslie's watch below, and in the ordinary course of events he would have retired to his cabin for the purpose of securing an hour or two of rest. But, with such a lowering and portentous sky as that overhead, he scarcely felt justified in entrusting the carpenter with the sole responsibility and care of the brig for so long a time; and he accordingly accompanied Miss Trevor on deck again.

They found the aspect of the sky more gloomy than ever; the clouds had formed themselves into heavier masses, and donned a deeper tinge of black than they had worn during the forenoon, and they were displaying a still greater degree of activity. Tongues of cloud were still darting out and back again, but they seemed no nearer to the formation of waterspouts than during the morning; and Leslie began to think that, perhaps, for once in a way he was going to prove a false prophet. Meanwhile, although during the whole of the morning and up to that moment, there had not been the faintest breath of wind, the two craft— the barque and the brig—had closed on each other to within a distance of some three miles, in the mysterious manner characteristic of craft becalmed within sight of each other. The barque, Leslie noticed, had followed his own example, and stripped to precisely the same canvas as that exposed by the brig.

The conditions were not conducive to animated conversation; and judging from Miss Trevor's brief replies to his remarks, that she would prefer to be left to her own thoughts for awhile, he presently left her leaning over the rail gazing at the barque—which the swing of the brig had now brought abeam—and seating himself upon the short bench alongside the companion, proceeded to fill a pipe. He was lighting it with an ordinary match, the unshielded flame of which burned as steadily as though he had been in a hermetically scaled room, when Miss Trevor suddenly cried out—

"Oh, look, Mr Leslie, look! Surely there is one of your waterspouts at last!"

Leslie sprang to her side and looked in the direction toward which she pointed, where, at a distance of some eight miles away, he beheld a fully formed waterspout moving very slowly and majestically in a southerly direction.

"Yes," he agreed, "that is a real, genuine waterspout, and no mistake. But it is too far off for you to see it to advantage. Did you actually behold it come into existence?"

"No," she answered; "I was watching the ship yonder, and only caught sight of it accidentally, after it had become fully formed. I should really like to witness the genesis of a waterspout."

"Then keep your eye on that cloud," he recommended her, pointing to an especially black and heavy one that hung a few degrees from the zenith and apparently about half a mile astern of the barque. "If I am not greatly mistaken it is about to develop a very fine specimen in a few minutes. Do you note that black tongue that is slowly stretching down from it? Although it lengthens and shortens you will observe that it does not shrink back altogether into the cloud; on the contrary, every time that it lengthens it becomes perceptibly longer than it was before; and observe how steadily its root—where it joins the cloud—is swelling. Now watch, see how it continually stretches down, further and further towards the water. Ah, and do you see that little mound forming in the sea immediately beneath it? See how the water heaps itself up, as though striving to reach up and join the down-stretching tongue of cloud. Ah! there the two unite and you have the perfect waterspout. And a very noble example of its kind it is. They will be having a splendid view of it from yonder barque, for, see, it is moving in her direction, and is about to pass close to her, rather too close to be altogether pleasant, unless my eyes deceive me!"

He sprang to the companion, and seizing the telescope, applied it to his eye.

"Why," he exclaimed excitedly, after a moment or two, with his eye still glued to the instrument, "what are they about aboard that barque? Why don't they fire at the thing and break it? It will be upon them in another moment, to a dead certainty, unless it changes its course! No— yes—yes, it is going to hit her! Heavens! look at that!"

And as he stood there gazing he saw that vast column of water sweep steadily down upon and over the barque, completely hiding her from view for a moment. Then it suddenly wavered in the middle and broke, collapsing with a tremendous splash and commotion of the sea, the sound of which came drifting down to the brig with startling distinctness some ten or twelve seconds later. And there, in the very midst of the tumbling circle of foaming whiteness left by the vanished waterspout there floated the barque, no longer trim and all ataunto as she had shown a few seconds before, but a dismasted, mangled wreck, with bulwarks gone, boats swept from her davits, all three masts snapped short off at the level of the deck and lying alongside with all attached, a mere tangled mass of wreckage still fast to the hull by the standing and running rigging.

Leslie stamped his foot upon the deck in sympathetic vexation at the ruin thus wrought in a moment, and again applied his eye to the telescope. The carpenter, whose watch on deck it now was, stood beside him, eagerly impatient to discuss with him the details of the catastrophe that they had just witnessed; while the watch, forward, leaned over the bows alternately muttering to each other their opinions, and glancing round in apprehension lest a waterspout should steal upon the brig unawares and treat them as the crew of the barque had been treated.

It was this same crew—or rather the entire absence of any sign of them—that was now disturbing Leslie.

"I can see nothing of them," he muttered impatiently, searching the wreck with the lenses of his telescope. "Here, Chips, take a squint, man," he continued, thrusting the instrument into the eager hands of the carpenter. "His decks are as bare as the back of my hand; there is not enough bulwark left standing to make a matchbox out of—nothing but the stumps of a few staunchions here and there. I can see the coamings of the hatches rising above the level of the planking; I can see the windlass; I can just make out the short stumps of the three masts, and I can find where the poop skylight stood; but hang me if I can see anything living aboard her!"

The carpenter in turn applied his eye to the telescope, and gazed through it long and anxiously.

"No, sir," he agreed at length, "what you says is perfekly true; there ain't nobody a-movin' about on that there vessel's decks. Question is, what's become of 'em? Be they down below? Or have they been swep' overboard? Stan's to reason that when they found theirselves onable to steer clear o' that there spout they'd go below and shut theirselves up as best they could, knowin' as nothin' livin' could surwive a waterspout tramplin' over 'em, as one may say; but where be them there chaps now? If they was all right they'd be out on deck by this time—wouldn't they?—lookin' roun' to see the extent o' the damage. Would the bustin' o' the thing kill 'em, d'ye think, sir—they bein' shut up below?"

"It is difficult to say," answered Leslie, meditatively. "It would depend almost entirely upon the strength of their defences. We can see for ourselves what it has done to the craft herself; it has made a clean sweep of everything on deck, and reduced her to the condition of a sheer hulk. Hang this weather! I don't like the look of it; it is not to be trusted! If it were only a shade or two less threatening I should feel strongly tempted to send away a boat to see just what has happened aboard there. There may be a number of poor fellows somewhere on that wreck just dying for want of assistance. But—"

He paused, and again glanced anxiously round the horizon, noting that the aspect of the sky was still as full of menace as ever.

"No," he continued, "I dare not do it; it would be risking too much. Ha! look there; here it comes! Fore and main-topsail halliards let go, and man your reef-tackles!" he shouted, as a long line of white foam appeared on the western horizon, slowly widening as it advanced.

The men sprang to their stations in an instant, galvanised into sudden and intense activity by the urgency that marked the tone of the commands, and the next instant there was a rattling and squeaking of blocks and parrells as the topsail-yards slid down the well-greased topmasts and settled with a thud upon the caps. Then, as the men began, with loud cries, to drag upon the reef-tackles, Leslie shouted—

"Call all hands, carpenter, to close-reef topsails. Look alive, lads; if you are smart you may have time yet to get those reef-points knotted before the squall strikes us. Well there with the reef-tackles. Belay! Now away aloft with you all, and hurry about it. You, too," he added to the man who had been standing by the useless wheel, "I will look after her."

And, so saying, he mounted the wheel-grating while the whilome helmsman slouched along the deck, and, climbing the rail, began to claw his deliberate way up the main rigging.

It took the hands about five minutes to pass the weather and lee earings, by which time the squall was close to the brig, its approach being heralded by a smart shower of rain that drove Miss Trevor to the shelter of the cabin. Then, while the men were still upon the yards, tying the reef-points, the wind came roaring and screaming down upon the brig—fortunately from dead astern—and, with a report like that of a gun, her topsails filled and, with the foam all boiling and hissing around her and her bluff bows buried deep in the brine, the Mermaid gathered way and was off, heading south-south-west; which was as nearly as possible her proper course.

The men aloft, meanwhile, although nearly jerked off the yards by the violence and suddenness with which that first puff struck them, stuck manfully to their work until they had tied their last reef-point, when they leisurely descended to the deck, squared the yards, took a pull upon and belayed the halliards, and then went below to change into dry clothes and oilskins—an example which Leslie quickly followed as soon as he was relieved at the wheel.

The squall lasted for a full half-hour—during which the dismasted barque vanished in the thickness astern—and then it settled down into a strong gale that swept them along before it to the southward for nearly thirty hours, moderating on the following day about sunset.

The following morning dawned brilliantly fine, with a light breeze out from the westward that was just sufficient to fan the brig along, under everything that would draw, at a bare four knots in the hour over a heavy westerly swell.

"Why, what is the meaning of this, Chips?" demanded Leslie, as he emerged from the companion-way, at seven bells, clad in bathing-drawers only, on his way forward to take his matutinal douche under the head pump; "is this swell the forerunner of a new gale, or has it been knocked up by something that we have just missed?"

"Well, sir," answered Chips, "I'm inclined to think as your last guess is the proper answer. We struck the beginnin's of this here swell about two bells this mornin', and the furder south we goes the heavier the run seems to be gettin'—as though we was gettin', as you may say, more into the track of a breeze that have passed along just about here. Besides, the glass have gone up a goodish bit durin' the night, and is still risin'!"

As the day progressed, appearances seemed to favour the correctness of the carpenter's theory, for the weather remained fine, with less wind rather than more; while, after a time, the swell appeared to be dropping somewhat. It happened, that after the men had taken their dinner that day, it being the carpenter's watch on deck from noon until four o'clock p.m., he—acting now in the capacity of boatswain—took it into his head to go aloft, with the object of examining the brig's upper spars and rigging, to see how they had fared in the late blow. Taking the foremast first, he ascended to the royal-yard, and from thence worked his way conscientiously down to the slings and truss of the lower yard. While on his way aloft, however, he was observed to pause suddenly in the fore-topmast crosstrees and gaze intently ahead, or rather in the direction of some two points on the lee bow. He remained thus for nearly five minutes, and then proceeded in the execution of his self-appointed duty, taking first the foremast and then the mainmast, and subjecting everything to a most scrupulous and thorough overhaul; with the result that everything was found satisfactory aloft, except that certain chafing gear looked as though it would be all the better for renewal.

Meanwhile the watch on deck, who were engaged upon sundry odd jobs which they were able to execute on the forecastle, had noted the action of the carpenter, and had come to the conclusion that his keen eyes had detected some distant object of more or less interest ahead; and they accordingly snatched a moment from their tasks, at fairly frequent intervals, to cast an inquiring glance over the bows. And their watchfulness was at length rewarded, just as seven bells was striking by the sight of something that showed for a moment as it and the brig were simultaneously hove up on the top of a swell. It bore about a point on the lee bow; was some two miles distant; and, so far as could be judged from the momentary glimpse they had obtained of it, appeared to be a floating mass of wreckage. Its appearance was to them ample justification for a general knocking-off of work to watch for its next appearance, one of the more energetic of them even exerting himself to the extent of ascending the fore-rigging high enough to get a view over the fore-yard. From this elevation an uninterrupted view of the object was to be obtained; and after long and careful scrutiny the man made it out to be the dismasted hull of a ship that was either water-logged, or upon the point of foundering.

"Deck ahoy!" he hailed, in approved fashion; "d'ye see that dismasted craft out there on the lee bow?"

"Ay, Jim," growled the carpenter, "I've seen her this hour an' more. Ye may come down an' get on wi' your work, my lad; you'll get a good enough view of her from the deck afore long."

At eight bells the carpenter went below and called Leslie, who had been lying down in his cabin, and at the same time reported the sighting of the wreck, which was by this time clearly visible from the deck, except when hidden from time to time by an intervening mound of swell. Knowing exactly where to look, Leslie caught sight of her immediately over the lee cathead, the instant that he stepped out on deck. She was by this time about half a mile distant, and clearly distinguishable as a craft of some six hundred tons register. She was submerged almost to her covering-board, and the whole of her bulwarks being gone between her topgallant forecastle and long full poop, the sea was making a clean breach right over her main deck, leaving little to be seen above water but a short length of her bows and about three times as much of her stern. Seen through the powerful lenses of the brig's telescope, Leslie made out that she had once been a full-rigged ship, and from the little that showed above water he judged her to be American-built. Her three masts were gone by the board, also her jib-booms, which were snapped close off by the bowsprit end. There was no sign of any floating wreckage alongside her, from which Leslie was led to surmise that her masts must have been cut away; a circumstance that, in its turn, pointed to the conclusion that she had been hove over on her beam-ends—probably by a sudden squall—and had refused to right again. But what had become of the crew? A glance at the craft's davits answered that question. There were no boats to be seen, while the davit-tackles were overhauled and the blocks in the water. This clearly pointed to the fact that the boats had been lowered; the presumption therefore was that the crew had abandoned the craft, fearing that she was about to founder. Nevertheless, the weather being fine, and the condition of the sea such that the craft could be boarded without much danger or difficulty, Leslie determined to give her an overhaul; and accordingly the brig, having by this time arrived almost directly to windward of the seeming derelict, he gave orders to back the main-yard, and instructed the carpenter to take the lee quarter-boat, with three hands, and go on board.

"Well, Miss Trevor," said Leslie, as the two stood together near the binnacle, watching the boat rising and falling like a cork over the long hummocks of swell as she swept rapidly down toward the wreck, "what think you of that for a sight? Is it not a very perfect picture of ruin and desolation? A few days ago—it can scarcely be more—that craft floated buoyantly and all ataunto, 'walking the waters like a thing of life,' her decks presenting an animated picture of busy activity, as her crew went hither and thither about their several tasks; while yonder poop, perchance, was gay with its company of passengers whiling away the time with books, games, or flirtations, according to their respective inclinations. And over all towered the three masts, lofty and symmetrical, with all their orderly intricacy of standing and running rigging, and their wide-spreading spaces of snow-white canvas; the whole combining to make up as stately and beautiful a picture as a sailor's eye need care to rest upon. And now look at her! There she lies, clean shorn of every vestige of those spacious 'white wings,' that imparted life and grace to her every movement; her decks tenantless and wave-swept; her hull full of water, and the relentless sea leaping at her with merciless persistency, as though eager to drag her down and overwhelm her! Can you conceive a more sorrowful picture?"

"I could, perhaps; although I grant you that it must be difficult to imagine any sight more grievous than that to a sailor's eye," answered the girl, gazing upon the scene with eyes wide and brilliant with interest and excitement. "How fearlessly that little boat seems to dance over those huge waves! She reminds me of one of those birds— Mother Carey's chickens, I think they are called—that one reads about as sporting fearlessly and joyously on the tops of the wave-crests during the height of the fiercest storms. Ah, now they have reached her," she continued, clasping her hands on her breast unconsciously as she watched the wild plunges of the boat compared with the deadly slow heave of the water-logged hulk. "Oh, Mr Leslie, how could you order those men to undertake so desperately dangerous a task? They will never do it; they cannot; their boat will be dashed to pieces against that great, ponderous wreck!"

"Never fear," responded Leslie, cheerfully; "Chips knows what he is about. See, there; how keenly he watched for his chance, and how neatly he took it when it came. He saw that rope's-end hanging over the stern long before he came to it, you may depend; and now inboard he goes, and there he stands on the poop without so much as a touch of the boat against the wreck. And there goes the boat round into the sheltered lee of the hull, where she will lie quite comfortably. And thither we will go, too, in readiness to pick them up when they shove off again."

The brig bore up and, wearing round, came-to again quite close under the lee of the wreck; so close, indeed, that it was quite easy to see with the unassisted eye everything that was going on aboard her, as well as to obtain a more comprehensive and detailed view of the havoc that had been wrought on her by the combined effects of wind and sea.

Their attention, however, was for the moment attracted rather to what was happening on board, than to the condition of the wreck herself; Miss Trevor being an especially interested spectator. After all, it was not very much: simply this, that under the lee of a hencoop on the poop, that had somehow resisted the onslaughts of the sea, Chips had discovered a very fine Newfoundland dog crouching—or perhaps lying exhausted; and he was now endeavouring to induce the animal to leave his shelter with the view of coaxing him into the boat. But for some reason or other the brute refused to move, responding to the carpenter's blandishments only by a feeble intermittent beating of his tail upon the deck.

"Oh," exclaimed Miss Trevor, when she grasped the state of affairs, "I hope he will be able to rescue the poor creature! He is a beautiful animal; and I am so fond of dogs."

"What is the matter with him, Chips? Won't he trust you?" hailed Leslie, sending his powerful voice to windward through the palms of his hands.

The carpenter stood up and faced about. "Seems to be pretty nigh starved, so far as I can make out, sir," he replied. "The poor beggar's just nothin' but skin and bone, and too weak to stand, by the looks of 'im."

"Then take him up in your arms and drop him overboard," suggested Leslie. "And you, there, in the boat, stand by to pick him up. He'll have sense enough to swim to you."

So said, so done; Miss Trevor watching the apparently somewhat heartless operation with tightly clasped hands. Leslie's conjecture as to the creature's sagacity was fully justified; for upon finding himself in the water the dog at once began to paddle feebly toward the boat, and in less time than it takes to tell of it a couple of men had seized him and dragged him into the boat, in the bottom of which he lay shivering and panting, and rolling his great trustful eyes from one to the other of his rescuers.

After this there was little more that the carpenter could do on board. It was impossible for him to pass along the main deck from the poop to the forecastle, for the sea was sweeping that part of the derelict so continuously and in such volume that, had he attempted any such thing, he must inevitably have been washed overboard. Nor could he, for the same reason, enter the poop cabin from the main deck; but he peered down into it through the opening in the deck that had once formed the skylight; and presently he swung himself down into it and disappeared from view. Meanwhile the brig, being buoyant, was settling rapidly to leeward, and soon drifted out of hailing distance. In about ten minutes from the time of his disappearance the carpenter was seen to climb up out of the cabin on to the deck and beckon to the men in the boat, who at once paddled cautiously up alongside; when, watching the roll of the hull and the heave of the boat alongside, Chips seized a favourable opportunity and lightly sprang into the smaller craft. The men in her at once shoved off and, pulling her bows round, gave way for the brig, the carpenter carefully watching the run of the sea as he sat in the stern-sheets and steered.

"Here they come!" exclaimed Leslie, watching them. "Lay aft here, men— all hands of you—and stand by to sway away as soon as they have hooked on. See that those tackles are well overhauled—give them plenty of scope to come and go upon!"

Coming down before wind and sea, the boat took but a few minutes to traverse the distance between the derelict and the brig; and presently, slipping close past under the stern of the latter, she rounded-to in the "smooth" of the brig's lee, and shot up alongside. As she did so, the man who pulled "bow," and Chips, respectively made a lightning-like dash for the bow and stern tackles, which they simultaneously got hold of and hooked into the ring-bolts, flinging up their arms as a signal to those on board to haul taut. Meanwhile the remaining two hands in the boat laid in their oars and, rising to their feet, cleverly sprang into the main chains as the brig gave a heavy lee-roll.

"Haul taut fore and aft, my hearties," shouted Leslie, balancing himself on the lee rail and grasping a backstay, as he anxiously watched the dancing boat. "Out you come, Chips, and you also, Tom. Capital! Now, hoist away fore and aft; up with her smartly, lads, while this lee-roll is on! Good! very neatly done! Catch a turn, now, for a moment; and you, Chips, jump into her again, and pass out the dog. Take care that you don't drop him overboard! Well done! Now hoist away again, men. Well, there; two blocks; Belay! Haul taut and make fast your gripes. Good dog, then; poor old fellow! Why you are just skin and bone, as Chips said. Never mind, old chap, your troubles are over now, and we will soon set you on your pins again. Here, steward, bring along some water for this dog—not too much to start with; and give him a little food. Now, carpenter, what were you able to make out aboard there? Fill your main-topsail, lads, and bring her to her course."

Meanwhile, Miss Trevor was on her knees beside the dog—a magnificent black Newfoundland—patting his head, and speaking loving words to him; to which attentions the poor beast responded by whining pitifully as he licked her hands and slapped the deck feebly with his tail. When the steward brought the food and water she took them from him and herself gave them to the dog, allowing him first to drink a little, and then to take a mouthful or two of food; then another drink, and then more food, and so on, until he had taken as much as she thought good for him for a first meal.

"Well, sir," responded the carpenter, as he turned to walk aft with Leslie, "there wasn't much to learn aboard that there hooker beyond what you could see for yourselves from the deck of this brig. I 'low she was hove down upon her beam-ends in a squall, some time durin' the night, most likely; and then they had to cut away her masts to right her again. Anyhow, her masts was cut away, that's sartin', because the lanyards of the riggin' showed the clean cuts of the tomahawks clear enough. And I reckon that, when she was hove over, she started butt, or somethin' o' that sort, because she was full o' water, and it was only her cargo— whatever it may ha' been—that kept her afloat. She'd been a fine ship in her time, her cabin bein' fitted up most beautiful wi' lookin' glasses and white-and-gold panels, velvet cushions to the lockers, and a big table o' solid mahogany, to say nothin' of a most handsome sideboard wi' silver-plated fittin' up agin' the fore bulkhead. Then, on each side of the main cabin, there was a row of fine sleepin' berths—six on side—and four others abaft the after bulkhead, all of 'em fitted up good enough for a hemperor. But there weren't nobody in 'em, in course; they and the main cabin bein' up to a man's waist in water, all loppin' about wi' the roll o' the ship, and fine cushions and what not floatin' about fore and aft and athwartships. I couldn't find no papers nor nothin' worth bringin' away wi' me—unless it were the aneroid, tell-tale, and clock what was fixed to the coamin's where the skylight had been, and I couldn't unship none o' them without tools; but the tell-tale and the clock bore the name o' Flying Eagle—Philadelpy; that I take to be the name an' port o' registry o' the craft."

"No doubt," agreed Leslie. "And how long do you think the craft had been as you found her?"

"Well, not so very long, sir, I should say," answered Chips. "Everything looked fairly fresh aboard of her; the paintwork weren't noways perished-like wi' the wash of the water, and the polish on the mahogany was pretty nigh as good as a man could wish; but the cushions was certingly a good bit sodden. I should say, sir, as he'd been desarted a matter o'—well, perhaps three or four days."

"Ah," commented Leslie, speaking to himself rather than to the carpenter, "then it could not have been the same squall that struck us. No, certainly not, the distance is altogether too great for that. It means, however, that there has been bad weather in these regions of late; so we will keep our weather eyes lifting lest we should be caught unawares by a recurrence of it. Thank you, carpenter; you have done very well. And now, if you will keep a look-out for a few minutes, I will go below and enter a full account of the matter in the log-book while the particulars are fresh in my memory."

Miss Trevor had all this time been looking after the dog, petting him and making much of him, until the animal, revived and strengthened by the food and drink that he had taken, had struggled to his feet and was now staggering after her along the deck, as she slowly and carefully induced him to take a little exercise. Then, after the lapse of about an hour, she fed him again, somewhat more liberally than at first; until by dint of care and assiduity on her part the poor beast was once more able to walk without much difficulty.

The sun went down in a clear sky that night, and although the breeze held, the swell rapidly subsided, thus clearly indicating that it was not the forerunner of an approaching gale, but the last remaining evidence of one already past—in all probability the same gale the initial outfly of which had worked the destruction of the Flying Eagle.

The life of a sailor is usually one of almost wearisome monotony, despite what landsmen have to say as to its excitements. True, the individual who is fortunate enough to possess an eye for colour and effect, and the leisure to note the ever-varying forms and tints of sea and sky—especially if he also happens to be endowed with the skill to transfer them to paper or canvas—need never pass an uninteresting moment at sea. Such fortunately circumstanced people are, however, few and far between, and it is more especially to the ordinary mariner that reference is now made. To him there are, broadly speaking, only two experiences, those of fine weather and of storm. Fine weather means to him usually little more than the comfort of dry clothes, his full watch below, and perhaps not quite such hard work; while bad weather means sodden garments, little and broken rest, and—unless the ship be snugged down and hove-to—incessant strenuous work. To him the constantly changing aspects of the sky appeal in one way only, namely, as forecasts of impending weather.

And the incidents of sea-life, apart from the changes of weather, and the sighting of occasional ships, are few. Derelicts are not fallen in with every day; nor is the overwhelming of a ship by a waterspout a frequent occurrence. Yet extraordinary events—some of them marvellous almost beyond credence—unquestionably do occur from time to time, and nowhere more frequently than at sea. And it is quite within the bounds of possibility for one craft to circumnavigate the globe without encountering a single incident worth recording, while another, upon a voyage of less than half that length, will fall in with so many and such extraordinary adventures that there will not be space enough in her log-book to record the half of them.

This, it would almost appear, was to be the experience of the Mermaid; for upon the afternoon of the day following that of their meeting with the Flying Eagle, her crew were privileged to witness a sight that a man may follow the sea for years without beholding.



CHAPTER SEVEN.

DISMASTED!

It was about one bell in the first dog-watch; the weather was fine, the water smooth, the breeze light; and the brig, with little more than bare steerage-way upon her, was laying her course, with squared yards, both clews of her mainsail hauled up, and studding-sails set on both sides, her topsails occasionally collapsing and flapping to the masts for lack of wind to keep them "asleep." Miss Trevor was, as usual, on deck, seated in a deck-chair, with a book on her lap and the fingers of one hand playing abstractedly with an ear of the great dog that lay stretched contentedly upon the deck beside her. Leslie, also with a book in his hands, was seated right aft upon the taffrail, with his feet upon the stern grating, in such a position that he could look past the helmsman right forward and command the entire starboard side of the deck, as far forward as the windlass-bitts—and, incidentally, study the varying expressions that flitted athwart Miss Trevor's face as she read. The carpenter, with the rest of the men, was on the forecastle, looking after them and busying himself upon some small job that needed attention. The stillness of the peaceful afternoon seemed to have fallen upon the vessel; the men conversed together intermittently in subdued tones, that barely reached aft in the form of a low mumble; and the only sounds heard were the occasional soft rustle and flap of the canvas aloft, with an accompanying patter of reef-points, the jar of the rudder upon its pintles, the jerk of the wheel chains, and the soft, scarcely audible seething of the water alongside.

Upon this reposeful quietude there suddenly broke the sound of a gentle "wash" of water close alongside, then a long-drawn, sigh-like respiration, and a jet of mingled vapour and water shot above the port bulwark to a height of some ten or twelve feet, so close to the brig that the next instant a small shower of spray came splashing down on the deck in the wake of the main rigging.

So totally unexpected was the occurrence that it startled everybody. Leslie sprang to his feet and looked with mild surprise down into the water; Miss Trevor dropped her book as she shot out of her chair; the dog, who had manifested a readiness to respond to the name of Sailor, leaped up and rushed to the bulwarks, where he reared himself upon his hind legs, emitting a succession of deep, alert barks; and the crew forward shambled over to the port bulwarks, staring curiously.

"Come up here, Miss Trevor," said Leslie, extending his hand to help the girl up on to the grating beside him. "Here is a sight that you may never have an opportunity to behold again—at least, under such perfect conditions as these."

The girl, closely attended by Sailor, sprang lightly upon the grating, and following with her eyes Leslie's pointing finger, gazed down into the blue, transparent depths, where she beheld the enormous black bulk of a large sperm whale, lying right up alongside the brig—so close to her, indeed, that his starboard fin was right under her bilge, about a third of his length—from his blow-holes aft toward his tail—showing shiny as polished ebony, some six inches above water, while his ponderous tail stretched away some forty feet or more beyond the taffrail, where it could be clearly seen gently rising and falling to enable him to keep pace with the brig.

"What a veritable monster!" exclaimed Miss Trevor, gazing down with wide-open eyes of mingled astonishment and dismay at the huge creature, as she clung unconsciously to Leslie's supporting arm. "Is it dangerous? I hope not, because it looks big enough and strong enough to destroy this ship at a single blow if it chose to do so!"

"You need not be in the least alarmed," answered Leslie, reassuringly. "He will not hurt us if we do not interfere with him. These creatures are only dangerous if attacked; then, indeed, they have been known to turn upon their assailants, with dire results. But ah! look there!— there is another one!"

And sure enough, up came another of the monsters, breaking water with a rush that showed nearly half his length, at a distance of only some fifty yards from the brig.

"And there is another!" cried Miss Trevor, with unmistakable trepidation, as a third came to the surface and blew close under the brig's counter.

"Pity as we ain't a whaler, sir," remarked the helmsman. "If we was, here 'd be a chance to get fast to two of 'em at once, without so much as havin' to lower a boat!"

"Yes," responded Leslie, good-naturedly. "Such chances do not, however, seem to come to whalers. Why, there blows another!" as a fourth whale broke water about a hundred yards on the brig's starboard beam. "We seem to have fallen in with a whole school of them!"

And so indeed it proved, for within ten minutes there were no less than seventeen of the monsters in view at the same moment within a radius of a quarter of a mile of the brig, which craft appeared to possess a fascination for them; for they not only swam round and round her, but approached her so closely and so persistently that Miss Trevor became seriously alarmed; while even Leslie began to grow somewhat uneasy lest the brutes, whose temper he knew to be rather uncertain, should develop an inclination to attack the craft. To the relief, however, of all hands, the curiosity of the creatures at length appeared to be satisfied, and they drew off from the brig a little, still remaining upon the surface, however. And presently the huge brutes began to develop a playful disposition, that commenced with their chasing each other hither and thither, first of all in a leisurely manner, then, as their excitement grew, their rapidity of movement increased until they were rushing through the water—and round the brig—with the speed of a fleet of steamers. And finally they took to "breaching," that is, throwing themselves completely out of the water, to a height of from ten to twenty feet, coming down again with a splash, that soon set the water boiling and foaming all round them, and creating a commotion that caused the brig to roll and pitch as though she were in a choppy sea. This exhibition of strength and activity lasted for a full three-quarters of an hour, when the creatures disappeared as suddenly as they had come, much, it must be confessed, to the relief of all hands aboard the brig.

From this time nothing of moment occurred until the Mermaid arrived off Staten Island, the eastern extremity of which she sighted at daylight on a cold, bleak morning some ten weeks after the date when Leslie and Miss Trevor had become members of her ship's company. The weather had, in the interim, been fine upon the whole, with occasional calms and contrary winds; but, taking everything into consideration, Leslie felt that they had done by no means badly.

On this especial morning, however, appearances seemed to point to the probability that they were about to experience an unpleasant taste of typical Cape Horn weather. The sky was gloomy and overcast, the entire firmament being obscured by a thick pall of cold, leaden-hued cloud lying in horizontal layers, and presenting the appearance described by sailors as "greasy"—an appearance that usually forebodes plenty of wind and, not improbably, rain. The breeze was blowing fresh from the westward, having hauled round from the north-west during the night, and the brig was pounding through a short, lumpy sea under single-reefed topsails. The air was damp and raw, with a nip in it that sent everybody into their thick winter clothing, and called for a fire in the cabin stove; and the deck, as far aft as the waist, was streaming with water that had come in over the weather rail in the form of spray. Everybody on deck, except Miss Trevor, had donned sea boots and oilskins, and the only creature who appeared to enjoy the weather was Sailor, the dog, who trotted about the deck and through the heavy showers of spray with manifest delight. There was no hope whatever of getting a sight of the sun that day; but this was a matter of comparatively slight importance, since Leslie had very carefully taken the bearings of the land, and had thus been able to verify his reckoning.

As the day wore on the wind freshened perceptibly, while with every mile that the brig made to the southward the sea grew longer and heavier, and the air more bleak and nipping. At noon, when the watch was called, Leslie seized the opportunity to take a second reef in the topsails, and to haul up and furl the mainsail; an arrangement that was productive of an immediate change for the better, since the brig went along almost as fast as before, while she took the seas more easily, and was altogether drier and more comfortable. The barometer, however, was falling steadily; a circumstance that, combined with the look of the sky to windward, led Leslie to the conclusion that they were booked for a regular Cape Horn gale. All through the afternoon the weather steadily became more unpleasant, and about one bell in the first dog-watch, it came on to rain—a cold, heavy, persistent downpour—while the wind piped up so fiercely that Leslie decided to haul down the third reef in his topsails, brail up and stow the trysail, and take in the inner jib without further delay, thus snugging the brig down for the night.

The next morning dawned dark, gloomy, and so thick with driving rain that it was impossible to see anything beyond half a mile from the brig in any direction. But within that radius the scene was depressing enough, a steep, high sea of an opaque greenish-grey tint sweeping down, foam-capped and menacing, upon the brig from to windward, while the air was thick with spindrift and scudwater. The foresail had been taken in during the middle watch; and the brig was now under close-reefed topsails and fore-topmast staysail only, under which canvas she was making a bare three knots in the hour, leaving behind her a short wake that streamed out broad on her weather quarter. So unpleasant were the conditions that, except for brief intervals during the fore and afternoon, Miss Trevor remained below, whiling away the time as best she might with a book; disregarding Sailor's importunate invitations to accompany him on deck.

Meanwhile the gale was steadily increasing, and between five and six bells in the afternoon watch the main-topsail suddenly split with a loud report, and immediately blew out of the bolt-ropes; with the result that, despite the utmost efforts of the helmsman, the brig at once fell off into the trough of the sea. Hearing the report, and the subsequent commotion on deck, Leslie, who had been snatching a little rest in his cabin, dashed up on deck and, taking in the position of affairs at a glance, gave orders for the fore topsail to be at once clewed up, and the spanker to be set; which being done, brought the brig once more to the wind, and extricated her from her dangerous situation. Then he ordered a new main-topsail to be at once brought on deck and bent; having no fancy for leaving the brig all night under such low and ineffective canvas as the spanker—a sail that, with the heavy sea then running, was half the time becalmed.

By the time that the remains of the burst main-topsail had been unbent, and the new sail brought on deck, it was eight bells, and all hands were set to work to bend the sail. This, under the existing weather conditions—with the wind blowing at almost hurricane strength, and the brig flung like a cork from trough to crest of the mountainous, furious-running sea, with wild weather rolls as the seas swept away from under her, succeeded by sickening rolls to leeward that at times laid her almost on her beam-ends as she climbed the lee slope of the next on-coming sea—was a long, difficult, and perilous job for the hands aloft; and Leslie heaved a sigh of relief when at length, having bent and close-reefed the sail, the little party laid in off the yard, and descended to the deck to assist in sheeting it home. This delicate job was happily accomplished without mishap; and, the trysail being brailed in and stowed, the brig was then hove-to under close-reefed main-topsail and fore-topmast staysail.

All through the night and the whole of the succeeding day the gale continued to rage furiously, and although the Mermaid proved herself to be an unexpectedly good sea-boat in such exceptionally heavy weather, riding easily the mountainous sea that was now running, she rolled with such terrific violence that it was impossible to move anywhere on board her, whether on deck or below, without incurring the risk of serious injury. As for Miss Trevor, acting on Leslie's advice, she kept to her own cabin, and passed the disagreeable time in the comparative safety of her bunk, which she left only at meal times.

The morning of the fourth day brought with it a change. The gale broke about the time of sunrise, and soon afterwards the sky cleared, the canopy of cloud broke up, and drifted away to the eastward in tattered fragments, revealing a sky of hard pallid blue, in which the sun hung low like a ball of white fire. The sea went down somewhat, and no longer broke so menacingly, while it changed its colour from dirty green to steel-grey. Far away on the southern horizon a gleam of dazzling white betrayed the presence of a small iceberg, and the air was piercingly cold.

Gladly welcoming the change, Leslie—who had spent the whole of the preceding night on deck—ordered the close-reefed fore topsail to be set, as well as the foresail and main trysail; under which considerable increase of canvas the brig was soon once more moving with comparative rapidity through the water, and looking well up into the wind. Then, watching for a "smooth," they wore the craft round, and brought her to on the port tack, during the progress of which evolution the wind shifted a couple of points to the southward, enabling them to lay a course of north-west by west, which Leslie hoped would suffice him to draw out clear of everything, and carry him into the Pacific Ocean.

This hope was strengthened as the day wore on, for the wind continued to draw gradually still further round from the southward, while it steadily decreased in force—though growing colder every hour—thus enabling Leslie to shake out first one reef in his topsails, then a second, and finally the last, also to set his jib and main-topmast staysail; so that by sunset the brig, under whole topsails and main-topgallantsail, was booming along famously, with an excellent prospect of finding herself fairly in the Pacific in the course of the next twenty-four hours.

A disconcerting circumstance, however, that rather tended to damp Leslie's hopes, was the fact that the barometer persistently refused to rise, although the wind was subsiding so rapidly that it threatened to dwindle to a calm, and as the evening faded into night the stars grew dim and finally disappeared. Still, there was nothing that could be called actually alarming in the aspect of the weather; and as Leslie had been almost continuously on deck during the entire duration of the gale—snatching a brief half-hour of rest from time to time as best he could—and it was now his eight hours in, he decided, after deliberating the matter until four bells in the first watch had struck, to go below and turn in until midnight; leaving instructions with the carpenter to instantly call him in the event of anything occurring to necessitate his presence on deck.

It seemed to him that he had scarcely laid his head upon his pillow and closed his eyes ere he was awakened from a profound sleep by a sudden screaming roar of wind; the brig heeled over to port until she appeared about to capsize; and as Leslie, dazed for the moment by his sudden awakening, sprang from his bunk, a loud crash on deck, immediately succeeded by a lesser one, told a tale of disaster. The brig righted as the harassed man sprang up the companion ladder, clad only in his pyjamas, and dashed out on deck to find everything in confusion, the mainmast gone by the board and hammering viciously at the ship's side, while a furious banging forward told that the fore-topmast also had gone, and, with everything attached, was hanging to leeward by its rigging. Moreover, a howling gale from the northward was sweeping over the brig and deluging her with showers of cutting spray.

"Where is the carpenter?" was Leslie's first cry as he emerged from the companion and groped blindly about him in the blackness of the starless night.

"Here I be, sir," answered Chips, close at hand. "Oh, Mr Leslie, here's a dreadful business! And I be to blame for it, sir—"

"Never mind, just now, who is to blame," exclaimed Leslie. "Call all hands, and let them get to work with their tomahawks upon that main rigging. Cut everything away, Chips, and be smart about it, my man, or we shall have the mast punching a hole in the ship's side, and there will be an end of us all."

And so saying, without waiting for an answer, Leslie made a spring for the rack in which the tomahawks were kept, and, seizing the first of the small axes that he could lay hands upon, he set an example to the rest by hacking away at the lanyards of the main shrouds. It was a heart-breaking business, that blind hewing and chopping at the complicated gear that held the wreck of the mainmast fast to the hull; but it was accomplished at last, and then, the brig having paid off almost dead before the wind, it drifted astern and went clear, with much scraping and a final bump under the counter that made the old hooker tremble, and must have infallibly destroyed the rudder had it chanced to hit it. Then all hands went to work and attacked the topmast rigging, which, being less complicated, was soon cleared away.

The harassed crew now had a moment in which to collect their energies for fresh efforts, and take stock, as it were, of the extent of the disaster that had befallen them. And the first matter into which Leslie made particular inquiry—after he had gone below and got into his clothes—was the state of the crew; it had been impressed upon him— although he had hitherto been too busy to mention it—that some men seemed to be missing—or rather, he had vaguely felt that there were not so many men on deck as there ought to be.

So he now turned to the carpenter, and said—

"Muster all hands, Chips, and let the steward give them a good, generous tot of grog; they will be all the better for it after their hard work in the wet and cold. Moreover, I wish to satisfy myself that they are all right; it has struck me more than once since I came on deck that some of them are missing."

"I pray to God that you're wrong, sir," answered the carpenter; "but, now that you comes to speak of it, the same thing have struck me too. Here, lay aft, bullies, all of yer, and let's have a look at ye," he continued, sending his voice forward to the forecastle, where the men were now grouped, awaiting further orders.

They came aft, slouching along the deck after their usual manner, and grouped themselves about the binnacle, "Why, where's the rest of ye?" demanded the carpenter, glaring angrily from one to the other; "where's Bill—and Jim—and Joe? Jump for'ard, one of ye, and tell 'em to lay aft here for a tot o' grog."

"We're all here, Chips—all that's left of us, that is. Bill, and Jim, and Joe are all missin'; ain't to be found nowheres. Anyhow, they ain't in the fo'c's'le; I'm ready to swear to that!" answered one of the little crowd that grouped themselves round the binnacle, their eyes gleaming in the dim light of the binnacle lamp with that transient horror that sailors feel at the sudden loss of a shipmate.

"Not in the fo'c's'le!" ejaculated the carpenter, staring wildly about him, "Oh, my God! three men gone, and all of 'em in my watch!" he cried, flinging his clenched fists above his head in his agony of self-reproach. "You're sure that they ain't in the fo'c's'le? Then they ain't nowhere else aboard this unlucky hooker; they're overboard— that's where they are—went when the squall struck us and very nigh throwed us on our beam-ends. And it's my fault—all my fault; it's I that have lost them three men. Ye see, Mr Leslie, it's like this here. I'm a man what can't do without his proper 'lowance of sleep, and this here last gale have fair knocked me up and made me that stupid that I haven't knowed what I've been doin' latterly. And the fact is, that in this here last watch of mine I was fair overcome wi' want of sleep, and I dropped off without knowin' it, and without wantin' to; and this here's the consekence,"—flinging his right hand wildly out to indicate the crippled state of the brig—"this an' the loss o' three good men."

"Well, Chips, it is a pity," said Leslie, soothingly and sympathetically; "if you had but told me how completely you were knocked up, I would have taken your watch for you, although I am pretty well knocked up myself. The mischief, however, is done and cannot now be helped, so it is useless to worry any more about it. We must not, however, allow the ship to run further to leeward than we can help; so clew up the foresail, lads; we will let her scud under bare poles until daylight. Then we will see what can be done to mend matters. Now take your grog, men; and when you have clewed up and furled the foresail, go below. You, too, Chips. I have had a little rest, and can doubtless hold out until the morning. I will look after the brig until then."

As the men shambled away forward, leaving Leslie at the wheel, the latter dimly caught sight of something huddled up in the companion-way, at the top of the ladder; and while he stood staring at it in an endeavour to make out what it was, it moved; and the next moment Miss Trevor, enveloped in a dressing-gown, stepped out on deck, and, with teeth chattering with cold, exclaimed—

"Oh, Mr Leslie, what dreadful thing has happened? I was awakened by the terrible noise and confusion—the crashing and thumping, the thrashing of the sails, the howling of the wind, and the shouting of the sailors—and I feared that the ship was sinking—for it seemed just as bad as on the night when the Golden Fleece was run into; so I wrapped myself in this dressing-gown, and have been to and fro between the top of the stairs and my own cabin for quite an hour, I should think. But I would not come out on deck, for I saw at once that you were all extremely busy; and I knew that, if I did, I should only interrupt you, and be in your way."

"You would, indeed," answered Leslie, bluntly. "And even now," he continued, "the deck is no place for you on this wild and bitter night; you will get wet through and 'catch your death of cold,' as they say ashore. Therefore I beg that you will forthwith go below and turn in; there is no further danger at present; the brig is scudding quite comfortably, as you may see; and there is nothing that we can run up against between this and the morning; you may therefore finish your sleep in comfort and with an easy mind."

"But please tell me exactly what has happened," the girl persisted; "I shall be better able to rest if you will let me know the worst."

"Well, if you insist on knowing, the brig was caught aback by a sudden shift of wind, and we have lost our mainmast and fore-topmast," answered Leslie, saying nothing about their further loss of three men, as he did not wish to harrow her mind with such a distressing detail until it became impossible any longer to conceal it, Miss Trevor was not, however, to be so easily put off.

"But I heard the carpenter crying out that he had lost three men," she said. "What did he mean by that?"

"Precisely what he said," answered Leslie, reluctantly. "The poor chap was overcome with the fatigue of the last three days, and fell asleep in his watch on deck. The result is the loss of our spars, and—worse still—of three men, who, there can be no doubt, somehow got washed or knocked overboard when the squall struck and dismasted us."

"Oh, how dreadful!" exclaimed the girl in tones of horror. "This is indeed an unfortunate ship! We have met with nothing but tragedy since we came on board. I wish now—oh, I wish most fervently!—that we had met some other ship into which we could both have changed; we should then have escaped all these horrors."

"Possibly," agreed Leslie. "Yet 'quien sabe?' as the Spaniards say, who can tell? We might have trans-shipped into some craft quite as, if not even more, unfortunate than ourselves. In any case, it is too late now; and even were it not so, you appear to have forgotten that we could not both have trans-shipped; I at least am bound to go on to Valparaiso in this brig. This, however, is not the moment to discuss these matters; you are shivering and your teeth chattering with cold; I must therefore insist that you go below and turn in at once. And as you pass through the cabin, mix yourself a good stiff glass of grog; it will do you good. I prescribe it."

"Very, well doctor, I will obey you," answered the girl. And forthwith she disappeared down the companion, without saying "Good night!" somewhat to Leslie's chagrin.

The apparent discourtesy was, however, soon explained; for a minute or two later she reappeared, bearing in her hand a tumbler of generously stiff grog, which she handed to Leslie, saying—

"I 'prescribe this.' Please drink it at once; for I am certain that you need it far more than I do. Oh yes, I will take some myself, since you so strenuously insist upon it. There, now you will feel better," as she received the empty tumbler from him. "And now, good night. I wish I were a man, for then I could stay here and help you."

"God forbid!" ejaculated Leslie, fervently. "Not even to secure the benefit of your help would I have you other than as you are. A thousand thanks for the grog; and now good night; let me not see you again until the morning!"

The disaster to the brig had happened shortly before midnight; and for the rest of that wild and bitter night, until seven bells in the morning watch, Leslie stood there alone at the wheel, keeping the brig stern-on to the fast-rising sea. Then the carpenter and the remainder of the crew appeared on deck, and one of them came aft to his relief. The cook lighted the galley fire; the steward presently brought him aft a cup of smoking hot cocoa; and then, when he had stripped to the skin, been pumped on copiously under the head pump, rubbed down vigorously with a rough towel, and invested in a complete change of dry garments, he felt a new man, ready for another arduous day's work, if need be. He, however, insisted that all hands should take a thorough good breakfast before starting the day's work; and the wisdom of this revealed itself immediately that the work began.

Meanwhile it is necessary to say that during those long weary hours of Leslie's lonely vigil at the wheel, the wind, that at the first outfly had come away from about due north, had gradually veered round until, by sunrise, it was a point south of east, in which quarter it seemed disposed to stick. Furthermore, with the coming of dawn it had evinced a disposition to moderate its violence somewhat, while the sky had cleared for a few brief minutes in the eastern quarter, revealing a glimpse of the sun; and upon examining the barometer, Leslie had noticed that the mercury in the tube showed a convex surface—a sign that it was about to rise; he therefore suffered himself to indulge the hope that with improving weather, they would ere nightfall be enabled, by good steady hard work, to get the brig into such shape as to once more have her under command.

Seen now, in broad daylight, the poor little brig presented a truly pitiful sight as compared with her appearance on the previous evening. She was then all ataunto, with every spar, rope, and sail intact; a thing of life, obedient to her helm, responsive to the will of her commander, and as fit as such a craft could be to cope with any and every possible caprice of wind or weather. Now, she was a poor maimed and disfigured thing; her mainmast gone, leaving nothing of itself but a splintered stump standing some ten feet above the deck; her fore-topmast also gone—snapped short off at the cap; and, of her normal spread of canvas, nothing now remained save her fore-course. And her loss was not confined to that of her spars only, although that of course was serious enough. But, in addition to this, she had lost a complete suit of canvas, and practically all her running and standing rigging—the latter item being one that it would be quite impossible to replace until her arrival at a port. Fortunately for all concerned, her owners had been prudent enough to provide her with two complete suits of sails; and she also carried a fairly liberal equipment of spare spars; it would therefore be no very difficult job to extemporise a "jury rig" for her; but the trouble would be to find the wherewithal to replace the lost standing and running rigging, blocks, and all the other items that would be needed to make that jury rig effective.

Needs must, however, when there is no alternative; and the British sailor is, with all his faults, an ingenious fellow, not altogether devoid of the inventive faculty, and possessed of a pretty turn for adaptation; give him but the idea and he will generally find the means to carry it out.

So while Leslie and Chips went the round of the deck immediately after breakfast, inspecting their stock of spare spars, and the navy man prepared a rough sketch illustrating his idea of the manner in which those spars could be most effectively made use of, the rest of the crew turned-to with a will to overhaul the boatswain's locker, the sail locker, and the fore-peak, routing out therefrom and bringing up on deck every article and thing that could conceivably be of use in the task that lay before them. Then, when Leslie had completed his arrangements with the carpenter, the latter brought his tools on deck; the spare spars were cast loose and placed conveniently at hand for working upon; and in a very short time everybody but Leslie, Miss Trevor, the cook, and the steward, was busily engaged on the forecastle, measuring, cutting, splicing and fitting rigging, while the carpenter trimmed the spars and otherwise prepared them to go into their destined positions.

As for the others, the cook and steward had their usual duties to attend to, and could not therefore be spared to lend a hand in re-rigging the brig, even had they possessed the necessary knowledge—which they did not; although later on, perhaps, when it came to mere pulling and hauling, their strength would be found useful, and would be unhesitatingly called for. Meanwhile the brig, although under her fore-course only, and running before the wind, needed to be steered; and this job Leslie undertook to personally attend to throughout the day, thus sparing another man for the pressing work on the forecastle.

Luckily for everybody concerned, the half-hearted promise of finer weather that the morning had given was more than fulfilled; for about four bells the sky cleared, the sun shone brilliantly, and the air became pleasantly mild, while although the wind still blew strongly from the east, the sea grew more regular, so that the dismantled brig now scudded quite comfortably, not shipping a drop of water, and forging ahead, at the rate of about three knots per hour, on her proper course.

Miss Trevor had not made her appearance at the cabin table when Leslie had been summoned below to breakfast by the steward, nor had she responded when the former had gently knocked at her cabin door. This circumstance, however, had not aroused any very serious alarm in the breast of the ex-Lieutenant, who, remembering the incident of the night before, when the young lady had come on deck after the accident to the brig, thought it quite probable that, in consequence of her rest being so rudely broken, she was now oversleeping herself. And in the confidence of this belief he had ordered the steward not to attempt to disturb her, but to prepare breakfast for her immediately upon her appearance. And he furthermore instructed the man to notify him if she failed to put in an appearance before four bells. As it happened, the young lady appeared on deck, fresh and rosy as a summer morning, and with Sailor in close attendance, a few minutes before that hour.

"What!" she exclaimed, lifting her hands in dismay as she saw Leslie standing at the wheel, precisely as she had left him on the previous night, "still at that dreadful wheel! Do you mean to say that you have been standing there all this time?"

"By no means, madam," answered Leslie, cheerfully. "I have since then had a most refreshing bath, changed my clothes, taken breakfast, and done quite a useful amount of very necessary work. It is scarcely needful to inquire after your health, your appearance speaks for itself; yet for form's sake let me say that I hope you are none the worse for your very imprudent behaviour last night."

"Oh no," she answered, with a laugh and a blush that vastly became her— so Leslie thought; "I am perfectly well, thank you. I took the grog that you prescribed, and then went dutifully to my cabin, in obedience to orders, where I at once fell asleep, and so remained until an hour ago. Then I rose, dressed, and had my breakfast; and here I am, ready and anxious to do anything I can to help."

"Help!" echoed Leslie, with a laugh. "You talked of helping last night—and most kind it was of you to have and express the wish—but in what possible way could a delicately nurtured girl like you help? And yet," he continued more soberly, "you could render me a little help, once or twice a day, if you would. It is not much that I would ask of you—merely to note the chronometer times for me when I take my observations of the sun for the longitude. I have sometimes thought that Chips has been a little erratic in his noting of the time; and I have more than once had it in my mind to ask you to undertake this small service for me."

"Why, of course I will," assented the girl, eagerly. "Why did you not ask me before? And there is another thing that I can do for you, now— this moment—if you will only let me. I can steer the ship for you while you go downstairs and obtain a few hours' much-needed rest. Your eyes are heavy and red for want of sleep; you look to be half dead with fatigue! And if you should break down, what would become of the rest of us? Please let me try at once, will you? I am quite sure that I could manage it; it looks perfectly easy."

Leslie laughed. "Yes," he assented; "I have no doubt it does; because, you see, I happen to know just how to do it. But you would find it very hard work, and would soon be terribly tired. No; you could not possibly steer the craft in this heavy sea, especially as we are running before the wind—which constitutes the most difficult condition for steering. But, if you wish to learn to steer, I shall be delighted to teach you as soon as we again get fine weather and smooth water."

And with this promise the girl had to be content, although she persisted in believing it to be quite easy to turn the wheel a few spokes either way, and so keep the brig sailing on a perfectly straight course. Meanwhile, the crew got to work and rigged a pair of sheers over the stump of the mainmast, firmly staying it with guys leading aft to the taffrail and forward to the windlass-bitts. Then they rigged at the apex of the sheers the strongest threefold tackle that they could extemporise; and with the assistance of this they swayed aloft a spare main-topmast, that had been carefully prepared by the carpenter for fishing to the stump of the mainmast. This spar was accurately adjusted in the precise position that it was intended it should occupy, and its heel was then firmly secured to the stump of the mainmast by means of strips of stout planking about eight feet long, closely arranged all round and secured in position by a long length of chain wound tightly round, and further tightened by driving in as many wedges as possible. Then the spar was further secured by shrouds, stays, and backstays; thus providing a very respectable substitute for a mainmast. The sheers were then struck; a spare main-yard, fitted with brace-blocks and all other necessary gear, was next swayed aloft and firmly secured to the head of the extemporised mainmast; a spare main-course was bent and set; and by sunset that same evening Leslie had the satisfaction of seeing the brig once more in condition to be brought to the wind when occasion should arise. What the crew had accomplished that day constituted a most excellent day's work, especially taking into consideration the fact that they were almost worn-out with fatigue, Leslie therefore resolved to call upon them for nothing further in the shape of work that day; but he foresaw that it would be a great help to the craft to have a fore staysail that could be set when sailing on a wind; and a main trysail might also prove useful; he determined therefore that the next day should see these two sails in place, if possible. He would then have accomplished the very utmost that lay in his power, and sufficient, he hoped and believed, to enable him to take the brig to Valparaiso.

His observations, taken at noon and at three o'clock that day, showed him that the Mermaid was far enough to the southward and westward to justify a shift of the helm; and accordingly at four bells in the first dog-watch he altered the course to north-west by West, which he hoped would enable him to just clear Desolation Island and carry him fairly into the Pacific. It also afforded him an opportunity to test the efficiency of his jury rig; and his satisfaction was great at finding that with the yards braced forward the brig, under main and fore-courses only, behaved in a thoroughly satisfactory manner; although what she would do when hauled close on a wind still remained to be proved.

Happily for him the weather had by this time again become quite fine; the wind had softened down to merely a fresh breeze, and the sea had gone down considerably. He was therefore enabled to secure a few hours' sleep—a refreshment that he now absolutely needed, for he was by this time so completely worn-out and exhausted that he felt he could do no more.

The next day was nearly as busy an one as that which had preceded it, for it saw the completion of Leslie's plans, and left the brig under fore and main-courses and fore staysail; with main trysail bent and ready for setting when occasion should require. This achievement brought the ex-lieutenant to the end of his resources; but, on the other hand, he felt that the brig was now once more in reasonable trim for facing any contingency except a recurrence of really bad weather; and this last he hoped he would have done with when once the brig had fairly entered the Pacific. Luckily, the weather was now as fine as he could wish; the sky clear enough to enable him to get all his observations; not very much sea running; and a spanking fair wind driving the brig along upon her course at a speed of nearly five knots. Moreover, the fine weather would enable his crew and himself to get a sufficient amount of rest to thoroughly recuperate their exhausted energies, and prepare themselves for future contingencies. On the following morning, just as he had completed his forenoon observations for the longitude, land was sighted broad on the starboard bow, that proved to be the south-eastern extremity of Desolation Island; and at six bells in the afternoon watch the brig had arrived in the longitude of 75 degrees West, and was therefore at last ploughing the waters of the vast Pacific Ocean, to Leslie's profound satisfaction. He now shifted his course another point to the northward; and began to calculate the probable date of their arrival in Valparaiso.

It was his intention to maintain a north-west course for the ensuing twenty-four hours, in order to obtain a good offing, and then to haul up to the northward; but, to his disgust, when he turned out on the following morning he found that the wind had shifted and was blowing strong from about north-east, and that, with her yards braced right forward, and main trysail set, the brig would look no higher than north-west. It was, however, comforting to reflect that although the hooker was taking a wider offing than was at all necessary, she was edging up to the northward, in which direction lay their port of destination. And sooner or later they would be certain to get a westerly slant of wind that would help them. So, being in fact unable to do better, Leslie kept his starboard tacks abroad, and went driving along to the north-westward. And with every mile of progress that they now made there came an improvement in the weather; the air growing ever softer and more balmy, the water more smooth, and the skies clearer and more deeply and exquisitely blue.

Thus the brig drove steadily and pleasantly enough along, day after day, until the wondering voyagers seemed to have arrived in the lotus-eaters' region, "where it is always afternoon;" and still the wind hung inexorably in the north-east quarter, and the brig's bows obstinately refused to point higher than north-west, until Leslie's patience wore thin, and he grew moody and morose with long waiting for a shift of wind. For this condition of affairs lasted not only for days, but at last mounted to weeks; a circumstance that was practically unique in the history of those waters.



CHAPTER EIGHT.

THE WRECK OF THE MERMAID.

At length, however, the inevitable change came; the wind died away to a breathless calm; the ocean took on the semblance of a sea of gently undulating glass; and the hitherto cloudless sky imperceptibly lost its intensity of blue as a thin, streaky haze gradually veiled it, through which the sun shone feebly, a rayless disc of throbbing white fire. The heat and closeness of the atmosphere were intense, even on deck, while the temperature below was practically unendurable. The brig lost steerage-way about two o'clock in the afternoon; and when the sun sank beneath the western horizon that night, looming through the haze red as blood, distorted in shape, and magnified to thrice his normal dimensions, there was little if any perceptible change in the atmospheric conditions, although the mercury in the barometer had been falling slowly but steadily all day.

The brig was now within the tropic of Capricorn, and not very far to the eastward of the Paumotu Archipelago, in which region night succeeds day with such astounding rapidity that the stars become visible within ten minutes of the sun's disappearance. Yet no stars appeared on this particular night; on the contrary, a darkness that could be felt settled down upon the brig almost with the suddenness of a drawn curtain. The darkness was as profound as that of the interior of a coal-mine; it was literally impossible to see one's hand held close to one's eyes; and movement about the deck was accomplished blindly and gropingly, with hands outspread to avoid collision with the most familiar objects, whose positions could now be only roughly guessed at. And the silence was as profound as the darkness; for the swell had subsided with almost startling rapidity, and the brig was so nearly motionless that there was none of the creaking of timbers or spars, none of the "cheeping" of blocks and gear that is usually to be heard under such circumstances. Even the men forward were silent, as though they were waiting and listening for something, they knew not what. So intense was the silence that even the striking of a match to light a pipe became almost startling; while its tiny flame burnt steadily and without a semblance of wavering in the stagnant air.

Gradually, however, a subtle and portentous change took place. The darkness slowly became less intense, giving place to a lurid ruddy twilight that appeared to emanate from the clouds, for by imperceptible degrees they grew visible and became streaked and blotched with patches of red that suggested the idea of their being on fire within, the incandescence showing through here and there in the thinner parts. This red light grew and spread until the whole surface of the sky was aglow with it; and it was an uncanny experience to stand on the stern grating, close up to the taffrail, and look forward along the brig's deck to her bows, and note every detail of the craft and her equipment showing distinctly and black as ebony against that weird background of red-hot sky and its ruddy reflection in the polished surface of the water.