It was fine weather next day--fine for that part of the world, I mean; glimpses of watery blue, betwixt curtains of ashy yellow and brown vapour, some slanting pencils of dull sulphur in the north, striking the line of the horizon out of a long ragged edge of cloud. The wind was west, fresh enough to flash plumes of spray out of the running wrinkles; there was the head of an iceberg away north to the right of the weak shower of sunshine. This was all to be seen--saving always the hull with her deck of frozen snow, and her catheads barbed with ice, and her lines of rails bristling with daggers and small arms of frozen dew and brine--when I looked through the companion hatch after leaving my cabin. Whilst Mrs. Burke, Mr. Owen and myself breakfasted, we heard the people on deck busy with another jury-mast. The captain's voice rang out again in loud eager shouts. Mrs. Burke sent the steward up to beg her husband come below and breakfast whilst the coffee was hot; he sent answer that he could not leave; but even whilst the steward was delivering the captain's reply, a long strange hallo was delivered by one of the men; the sounds of bustle ceased; in a minute or two we heard a rush of feet; Mr. Owen jumped from his chair and ran up the ladder, whence, after he had paused to stare round, he shouted down in a voice of ecstasy:-- 'A sail, Mrs. Burke! There's a ship in sight, Miss Otway!' I screamed with a sudden impulse of delight; I could no more have arrested that cry than have stopped the hull from rolling; then, swiftly as my legs would carry me and my arms would work, I gained my berth and attired myself for the deck, and rushed up reckless of foothold. END OF THE FIRST VOLUME PRINTED BY SPOTTSWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE LONDON End of Project Gutenberg's Heart of Oak, vol. 1., by William Clark Russell