"Ah!" sighed Mark, with a feeling of relief stealing over him. "I thought something was wrong, and that I had slept too much. How is Mr Russell?" "Just as he was, sir; lying as quiet as a babby." Mark crossed to where a bucket of water stood on the deck, signed to one of the men to empty it and draw another, and into this he plunged his face, bathing it for a few minutes to get rid of the remains of his drowsiness, while Tom Fillot fetched him a towel from the cabin. "You haven't had half enough snooze, sir, but I thought I had better rouse you up," he said. "Sleep? We mustn't think of any more for a couple of nights, Fillot. Now what is the next thing to be done?" "Nothing, sir, but wait." "Nothing?" "I dunno of anything, sir. Sails all right, and unless you set us to scrape the chain cable, I can't think of a job." "Job? There is only one, and that is to get these two schooners safe alongside of the _Nautilus_. We must not lose them now." "Course not, sir. We won't." "How are the men?" "Well, sir, you've been asleep about five hours, so they aren't had time to change much, but they've mended as much as they could in that little time." "Of course. It was a stupid question, Tom. But about the prisoners?" "Oh, they're quiet enough, sir. That cask o' water settled 'em." "But are they not too quiet, Tom? I mean there is no danger of their suffering from the hatch being closed?" "Now look here, Mr Vandean, sir; 'scuse me, but you're too easy and soft over 'em. I don't say they're comfortable, for I wouldn't like to sleep down there without having the hatch opened, but the air they've got's quite good enough for such as them." "But you said they were very quiet, and it is startling." "As I told you afore, sir, they won't die without hollering; so make your mind easy, and go below, and have something to eat. I've had some coffee made, and it's all ready. Sort o' breakfast upside down. Go and eat and drink well, and then you'll feel ready for anything, sir." "Yes. I'll go forward, though, first." Mark smiled and felt brightened directly as a low murmured chorus of sound arose from the blacks, the men showing their teeth and the women smiling at him. He stopped by the forecastle hatch, and listened, but there was not a sound to be heard, and feeling startled, in spite of Tom Fillot's words, he cautiously approached the ventilator, and listened there. The silence was ominous, and a chill of horror came over him as he turned his eyes upon his companion, while his active brain pictured before him the bottom of the forecastle, with a party of suffocated men lying one over the other, just as they had fallen in their last struggle for air. Tom smiled encouragement, but an angry frown made the lad's brow look rugged, and he was about to give orders for the hatch to be removed, when there was a yawn, and a smothered voice said,-- "Guess it's hot enough down here."