As the morning advanced the heat of the sun increased, and the rays seemed to absorb the light breeze out of the atmosphere; the sea turned glassy, and by noon the boat was becalmed. Meanwhile, Winyard remained doggedly buried in the bows of the boat, sucking his dry lips, with despair legibly written upon his countenance. Johnson appeared to find relief by plunging his arm in the water and moistening his head and face. The very boat took a white, baked, thirsty aspect; and the heat made the paint upon her exhale in a faint and sickly smell. When the afternoon was waning, Winyard got up and crept stealthily to the after-part of the boat. Holdsworth kept his eyes steadily upon him. His intention, however, was no more than to take up the pannikin, which he snatched at hastily, as though fearing that his purpose would be frustrated. He then hastened forward and filled the vessel from one of the kegs. “Don’t drink it!” exclaimed Holdsworth; “it will increase your thirst.” But the man, pointing to his throat, swallowed the briny draught hastily, then put the pannikin down with a sigh of relief and with a face cleared of something of its peculiar expression of pain. Johnson seized the pannikin, meaning to follow Winyard’s example. Holdsworth entreated him to desist. “The salt will madden you!” he exclaimed. He had scarcely said this, when Winyard began to roll his body about, uttering short, sharp cries. Immediately afterwards he vomited, his face turned slate colour, and they thought he would expire. Holdsworth drained some rum into his mouth, and poured sea-water from the pannikin in long streams over his head. This somewhat revived him; but he lay groaning and cursing, and clutching at the sides of the boat with his finger-nails for many minutes. His sufferings frightened Johnson, who called out: “Master, if the water in the kegs is poison, we should let it run away.” “It is worse than poison,” replied Holdsworth. “Pull out the bungs--the sea-water around us is as wholesome to drink as that stuff.” Johnson then turned the kegs over and let them drain themselves empty. After this a silence fell upon the boat which lasted a full hour, when the boy said: “Mamma, I am thirsty. Give me something to drink.” It was shocking to hear the child’s complaint, and feel the _impossibility_ of satisfying him. The mother started up with a wild gesture, and cried in a fierce whisper, that was thickened in its passage through her swollen throat: “O my God! let us both die! End our misery now.” Holdsworth watched her mutely. Her appeal died away, and she sank back, exhausted by the sudden outbreak.