The sun went down, branding the great ocean with an angry glare; but nothing was visible upon either horizon but the deceptive tail-ends of clouds rising or dwindling. The breeze grew stronger as the darkness crept on, and they lowered the sail and took a couple of reefs in it, whilst there was light enough abroad for them to see what they were about. They soon lost sight of the other boats, and Holdsworth finding the wind drawing ahead, put the boat round, judging that the others would do so likewise. Now, if at no other time, was the sense of the profound helplessness of their position forced upon them. It is easy to write and read of an open boat far out in the Atlantic Ocean, and darkness around; but none save those who have experienced the situation can realise all the horror of it. Waves which would scarcely more than ripple against the sides of a ship, make a dangerous sea for an open boat, and arch their seething heads over her with a threat in every one of them of destruction. But _the_ overpowering sensation is the near presence of the sea. Your feet are below its surface; your head but an arm’s length above it. And you hear the quick splash of the boat’s bows as she jumps awkwardly into the hollows of the waves, wobbling as she goes forward with jerks and many stoppages, while now and again the sea chucks a handful of spray into your eyes as an earnest of the way it means to deal with you presently, when the wind has made it more angry. The stars came out and shone placidly among the clouds which were rolling away to the north-west. There was a short quick sea, which made the boat dip uncomfortably, and now and again whisked a sheet of spray over the seamen who sat forward. But there was more south than east in the breeze, which kept the temperature of the night mild. The little boy fell asleep in his mother’s arms; Mr. St. Aubyn reclined against the mast, his arms folded, and his head drooping on his breast, starting at intervals as the spray fell like a shower of rain in the boat, but speedily relapsing again into the sluggish or semi-unconscious state into which he had fallen shortly after the sun had gone down. The General and Holdsworth sometimes conversed. Presently Winyard, turning his coat collar over his ears, slipped under the thwart, where he coiled himself like a cat, and went to sleep. “I wish I could induce you to lie down, Mrs. Tennent,” said Holdsworth. “My coat will make you a capital pillow. I don’t want it indeed. I have slept on deck in my shirt-sleeves in colder nights than this. I shan’t put the boat about again to-night if this wind holds, and you will lie with your boy alongside of you as snugly as possible on this seat.” She thanked him, but said it would be useless for her to lie down; she should not be able to sleep. “You have eaten nothing all day,” said the General; “you must not allow your strength to fail you. Pray try to eat a little biscuit.”