Eight bells were struck. Bol came along, and I went below to see if the captain was awake. He addressed me on my entering his cabin. I reported the little there was to tell. He said that the pain in his side was easier; that he could move without the anguish of the afternoon. “I shall lie by all night,” said he, “and hope to be up and about again in the morning.” He then inquired about the situation of the island, the appearance of the weather, the sail under which the brig lay, whether any vessel had hove in sight, and added: “If you should awaken in your watch, go on deck and take a look round; though I trust Bol.” I went on deck to give the Dutchman the bearings of the island and our distance from it. He was sullen with sleep. Likely as not, the can which Jimmy had filled contained more liquor than should have gone forward at once. “Keep a bright lookout,” said I. “There may come a shift of wind that will put the island under our lee, with nobody to guess that it’s at hand until we’re upon it.” “Ow, I’ll keep a bright lookout,” he answered; “but vould to Cott dere vhas no more lookouts for me! I vhas dam’d sick of looking out. I hov been looking out, by tunder, for ofer twenty year, and hov seen noting till dis day; and den she vhas to be carried round der Hoorn to Amsterdam before she vhas all right.” I went to my berth. Excitement had subsided since my few words with Greaves. I pitched into my bunk, and was sound asleep in a minute. I was awakened by the weight of a heavy hand and by the sound of a deep voice. “Mr. Fielding, I do not like der look of der veather. I believe dere vhas a gale of vind on her vhay here.” “What is the hour, Bol?” “She vhas a quarter-past dree.” I went on deck, and observed that the sky in the north was as black as pitch. Overhead the stars were dim and few, but they burnt freely and brightly in the south. I caught a moaning tone in the wind, that had considerably freshened since I left the deck; and the brig, hove-to under whole topsails, was lying over somewhat steeply, with the seas to windward slapping at her rounded side, hissing off in pale yeasty sheets, and flickering snappishly into the gloom to leeward. “Call all hands and close-reef both topsails,” said I. I ran below to report to Greaves. A bracket-lamp burnt feebly in his cabin. He was wide awake, and his dark eyes, with the glance of the small yellow flame upon them, looked twice their usual size. “It is coming on to blow, sir.” “Well, snug down and put yourself to leeward of the island, anyhow.” “Shall I heave her to, then, for watering?” “Judge for yourself. The brig is in your hands. If it comes hard let her go. Keep a sharp lookout for the island. Have you its bearings?” “Bol should have them,” said I. “I have been turned in since midnight.”