Holdsworth and Johnson drew together and spoke of what these birds portended. The wildest phantasies were begotten, and they sought to encourage themselves with dreams which a listener would have shuddered over as the babbling of delirium. Their thoughts being loosened, they presently began to complain of hunger; and Johnson took up a piece of the pulpy biscuit which lay on a thwart and which the sun had hardened, and bit it, but instantly ejected it, saying that it was bitterer than gall. Indeed, had there been more light they would have seen the frost-like crystals of salt which had been dried into the biscuit by the sun’s action. However, their hunger was not so fierce but that they could endure it yet awhile. The night came down, quite radiant with stars, with not a cloud in all the great dome of glittering sky. The two men were now so regardless of their fate that they entered into no arrangement as to keeping watch, but folded their arms upon their breasts and slept or fell into a semi-unconscious state--lethargies so sinister that it was hard to tell whether they were not the sloping ways to death. Fitful cries sometimes broke from them, resembling the echoes which are awakened in the caverns of a bird-frequented cliff; but with notes of human anguish in them that made the glory of the stars a hellish mockery. The boy slipped from his seat and lay prone at the bottom of the boat, unheeded by either Holdsworth or Johnson. So passed the night. CHAPTER XII. THE SIXTH AND SEVENTH DAYS. The dawn awoke Johnson, who remained seated for some time motionless, with his open eyes fixed upon the sea half-way to the horizon. As he continued gazing, a wild smile of joy kindled up his face and parted his cracked lips into a grin so extravagant, so indescribable, that it converted his face into a likeness of humanity as repulsive and unreal as an ugly paper mask. He thrust his bony fingers into Holdsworth’s collar and shook him violently, whilst he pointed to the sea with his right hand. “Look! look!” he cried. “Wake up! wake up! there is the land! See the houses, master! and the trees!... O Jesus! how green they are! Wake up, I say!” Holdsworth started up violently and shook himself, with a mighty effort, clear of the benumbing torpor that had weighed him down throughout the night. He stared in the direction indicated by Johnson, then rubbed his eyes furiously with his knuckles, and stared again, but could see nothing but the ocean growing blue under the gathering light in the east, and stretching its illimitable surface to the horizon. “Come, master, let’s get the oars out. Why, where have we drifted? O Lord, see the trees! how green and beautiful! I reckon there’s water there--and I’ll strip and souse in it! Will they see us? Wave your hat!”