The season of spring advanced until the derelict _Polly_ had been four months afloat and wandering, and the end of the voyage was a long way off. The minds and bodies of the castaways had adjusted themselves to the intolerable situation. The most amazing aspect of the experience is that these men remained sane. They must have maintained a certain order and routine of distilling water, of catching fish, of keeping track of the indistinguishable procession of the days and weeks. Captain Cazneau’s recollection was quite clear when he came to write down his account of what had happened. The one notable omission is the death of another sailor, name unknown, which must have occurred after April. The only seaman who survived to keep the skipper company was Samuel Badger. [Illustration: “VOLUSIA” OFF SALEM, BUILT AT FALMOUTH, MASS., IN 1801, AND WRECKED AT CAPE COD IN 1802 From a painting in Marine Room, Peabody Museum, Salem] By way of making the best of it, these two indomitable seafarers continued to work on their rough deck-house, “which by constant improvement had become much more commodious.” A few bundles of hewn shingles were discovered in the hold, and a keg of nails was found lodged in a corner of the forecastle. The shelter was finally made tight and weather-proof, but, alas! there was no need of having it “more commodious.” It is obvious, also, that “when reduced to two only, they had a better supply of water.” How long they remained in the Sargasso Sea it is impossible to ascertain. Late in April it is recounted that “no friendly breeze wafted to their side the seaweed from which they could obtain crabs or insects.” The mysterious impulse of the currents plucked at the keel of the _Polly_ and drew her clear of this region of calms and of ancient, fantastic sea-tales. She moved in the open Atlantic again, without guidance or destination, and yet she seemed inexplicably to be following an appointed course, as though fate decreed that she should find rescue waiting somewhere beyond the horizon. The brig was drifting toward an ocean more frequented, where the Yankee ships bound out to the River Plate sailed in a long slant far over to the African coast to take advantage of the booming trade-winds. She was also wallowing in the direction of the route of the East Indiamen, which departed from English ports to make the far-distant voyage around the Cape of Good Hope. None of them sighted the speck of a derelict, which floated almost level with the sea and had no spars to make her visible. Captain Cazneau and his companion saw sails glimmer against the sky-line during the last thousand miles of drift, but they vanished like bits of cloud, and none passed near enough to bring salvation.