“Strange,” muttered the General, “that we sight no ships!” “Our course is east,” said Holdsworth. “If the wind would haul round a few points to the west, I’d out reefs and bear up.” The breeze held until twelve o’clock, when it slackened. The sea having grown smoother during the morning, Holdsworth hauled the sheet of the sail aft and steered south-east by the compass, which was as close to the sea as he deemed it advisable to sail the boat. The sun now shone hot overhead, which greatly comforted Mrs. Tennent and revived the spirits of her boy, who pulled a piece of string from his pocket, to which he fastened a crooked pin, and began to fish. As the afternoon advanced, the wind gradually died away, and a thin haze settled upon the southern horizon, portending both heat and calm. The water’s surface turned to an aspect of polished steel; the boat rose and sank to the swell, easily and with a soothing motion, and the sail flapped idly against the mast. During the afternoon, some porpoises came to the surface of the water, about a stone’s throw from the boat, rolling their gleaming black bodies in a southerly direction. “They always make for the quarter the wind’s coming from,” said Winyard. “I am afraid we shall have no wind to-night,” answered Holdsworth; “the weather looks too settled.” They watched the fish turning their solemn somersaults until they were out of sight, and then, as though to meet hope half-way, Holdsworth swarmed up the boat’s mast and swept the horizon with piercing eyes, but saw nothing but the boundless water-line paling away against the sky. The sun went down in glorious majesty, burnishing the deep, and dazzling the eye with a splendour of small radiant clouds, pierced with threads of glory, and momentarily changing their brilliant hues until the orb was under the sea, when they turned a bright red colour. The twilight followed fast, the stars came out, and the darkness of night fell upon the lonely deep. CHAPTER IX. THE THIRD DAY. As no object could be served by keeping the sail hoisted, they hauled it down and spread a portion of it over the widow and her child. Holdsworth kept watch till ten, and then awakened Winyard, who watched till twelve; afterwards Johnson watched; and so the three men took turn and turn about, all through the long and breathless night, until daybreak, which found Winyard awake in the stern-sheets, watching the pale dawn breaking in the east.