The day that succeeded was sad and dreary enough. The weather was fine, the sun coming out even hot upon us, but the wind continued to blow fresh off the land, and we were drifting further out, every instant, upon the bosom of the ocean. Our only hope was in falling in with some coaster, and I began to dread drifting outside of their track. We were without food or water, and were partly seated on the rail, and partly supported by the main-sheet. Neither of us attempted to change his berth that day. Little was said between us, though I occasionally encouraged the negroes to hold on, as something would yet pick us up. I had a feeling of security on this head that was unreasonable, perhaps; but a sanguine temperament has ever made me a little too indifferent to consequences. Night brought no change, unless it was to diminish the force of the wind. A short time before the sun set, one of the negroes said to me, "Masser Ned, John gone." I was forward of the two blacks, and was not looking at them at the time; I suppose I may have been dozing; but, on looking up, I found that one of the negroes had, indeed, disappeared. How this happened I cannot say, as he appeared to be well lashed; but I suppose he worked himself free, and being exhausted, he fell into the water, and sunk before I could get a glimpse of him. There was nothing to be done, however, and the loss of this man had a tendency to make me think our situation worse than it had before seemed to be. Some persons, all good Christians I should suppose, will feel some curiosity to know whether a man in my situations had no disposition to take a religious view of his case, and whether his conscience did not apprise him of the chances of perdition that seemed to stare him in the face. In answer to this, I am compelled to say that no such thoughts came over me. In all my risks and emergencies, I am not sensible of having given a thought to my Maker. I had a sense of fear, an apprehension of death, and an instinctive desire to save my life, but no consciousness of the necessity of calling on any being to save my soul. Notwithstanding all the lessons I had received in childhood, I was pretty nearly in the situation of one who had never heard the name of the Saviour mentioned. The extent of my reflections on such subjects, was the self-delusion of believing that I was to save myself--I had done no great harm, according to the notions of sailors; had not robbed; had not murdered; and had observed the mariner's code of morals, so far as I understood them; and this gave me a sort of _claim_ on the mercy of God. In a word, the future condition of my soul gave me no trouble whatever.