Night came on; Mr Scoones, unwilling to lose advantage of the breeze, continued to carry all sail, and it was evidently as much as the boat could bear. During the darkness a squall struck her. Before the sheets could be let go, the whole of the lighter canvas was blown away. Had not this happened, the boat would have been upset. She had now but her fore lug and foresail, so that she could no longer keep close to the wind without an after oar kept constantly going. The night, however, passed away without any farther accident. It was not until noon, when the weather moderated, that all hands turned to and tried to repair the tattered sails. This operation was almost beyond their power. They managed, however, to patch up a mizen, which enabled the boat once more to stand on her proper course. Several days passed by; no land appeared in sight. Their provisions were almost exhausted. They had been on short allowance for some time; but a few pints of water remained in their last cask. Again the boat lay becalmed. The three men who had escaped with the mate from the camp--their strength previously weakened by drinking--had given in and lay at the bottom of the boat, or leaned against the side, unable to exert themselves. Mr Scoones, strong and hardy as he had been, was utterly exhausted. Owen, Nat, and Mike, though feeling weak, were by far the most active of the crew. Another day passed by; the carpenter's mate was the first to die, the other two quickly followed. Owen had endeavoured to restore them by moistening their parched lips with water; but it was of no avail. He felt himself imbued with a strength which surprised him. The dead bodies were lifted over board. No funeral ceremony was possible. Owen then went aft to attend to the first mate, who lay in the stern sheets unable to move. Owen brought him some water; he drank it eagerly, and opened his eyes. "Is there much more?" he asked. "Very little, sir; but we will take only what will keep us alive, you can have the rest." Owen, faithful to his promise, continued to give the apparently dying man a few thimblefuls at a time. "Were a breeze to spring up we might yet be saved," said the mate. "Do you see any signs of one?" "Not as yet, sir," answered Owen, after he had looked round the horizon; "but cheer up, sir, God may still think fit to preserve us, although we do not see how it is to be. I'll get you a little more water."