"The moon's responsible for a lot of trouble in this world," said Jack. "You never know the way it will strike you, either. Some people who get moon-struck can only see in the daytime; others get their faces screwed up, and some go half-witted; but I'm hoping that perhaps when the moon changes my eyes will improve." "Do you really think that, Jack? Oh, I do hope so, with all my heart," exclaimed Loyola earnestly. "Wall, you've only three sun-ups to wait, Jack, if you allow that's your high kyard," announced Broncho. "Mebbe they've got eroded an' won't render, but if it's the blessed moon you've manœuvred up against, I've heard tell that folks that is hoodooed that way, such as lunattics an' paralytic jokers, gets worse at the full moon. Don't you butter your dough too much on that idee," observed Bill wisely. "The trades are going to leave us," put in the rover abruptly, after a keen look at the sky. "Goin' to have more calm?" asked Jim anxiously. "Well, doldrum weather, I expect." "Ca'm weather kinder palls on one," drawled Broncho disgustedly, "'an it's shore onheathful, an' liable to make a gent feel moody an' bad; but if it's a forced play, we makes it ontil somethin' goes pop." "Don't you jokers go manufacturin' trouble. Your joints'll tingle just the same when it does come alongside, an' if it do keep below the horizon, you're frettin' your brain-cases 'bout nothin'," said Bill reprovingly. "'Last Post's' gone; it's about 'Lights Out,'" announced Jack. "Shy us over that almanac before you bed down, Jim. I'll take a star presently." "I'm going to stand watch with you, Jack," declared Loyola decisively, getting up and seating herself by his side in the sternsheets. So it was decided that these two should take the first watch, Bill Benson and Tari the middle, and Jack again the morning, as he could not trust either Broncho or Jim sufficiently with the dead reckoning. The night passed quietly with but little wind. Loyola insisted on again bearing Jack company in his lonely vigil from four to eight, and after breakfast these two lay down in the bottom of the boat and slept soundly till near midday, awaking to find a big change in the weather. The whaleboat was going close-hauled into a dead head wind. She was right off her course, heading a point to the east of north. The Pacific sparkled under the strength of the tropical sun, and there was a heavy swell running from the nor-west. On different quarters of the horizon rain-squall clouds hovered black and wind-torn. The breeze blew fitfully, and occasionally came in stronger puffs, which heeled the whaleboat over till her garboard streak showed to windward. It had evidently been blowing hard somewhere below the north-west horizon, to account for the long hills of water rolling in from that direction. The atmosphere seemed very clear, and the surf, breaking on a line of reef about a mile to the north, showed up plainly, as if it was only a cable-length off.