"Any orders about the watch, sir, or making or taking in sail?" said Tom Fillot, meeting him as he turned, and touching his hat respectfully. "N-no," said Mark, giving a quick look round aloft and slow. "Everything seems to be right." "Did what I thought was best, sir." "You say the men below have had their rations?" "Yes, sir; and I lowered 'em down some meat as well, but they never said thankye, sir." "I suppose not," muttered Mark. "But now about the watch over the prisoners." "Can't do better than let Soup and one of the blacks do that, sir. They've had a good long snooze in the sun. And if they watch, and you or me give an eye to 'em now and then, we can't do better." "No, I suppose not, Tom. That will do, and we'll be on deck all night. I don't see that we can do anything more to make the hatch safe." "No, sir, nothing. That cask's a puzzle for 'em. We've got 'em safe now." "Yes, Tom, and they're having a taste of what it means to coop up fellow-creatures below hatches like cattle." Then came the tropic darkness, as if a heavy veil were drawn slowly over the sky. Lanterns were lit, the blacks went below without being told, and the business of the schooner already began to work as orderly as if it had been turned into a man-o'-war. The men examined their arms, Mark and Tom Fillot looked to their pistols, and the darkness was met with every precaution for the safety of the ships and crew. Then came a long interval of solemn silence, with the light on the schooner they were towing rising and falling slowly on the long heaving swell, and both vessels gliding gently along toward the north. The night was once more grand, with the great soft stars illuminating sea and sky; but, in his anxiety, Mark could not study their beauty, nor that of the myriads of phosphorescent creatures softly emitting flash and spark, fathoms below in the clear water. These were not the stars or sparks that had any interest for the midshipman now. He watched with interest the lantern in the bows of the schooner they were towing astern, and then from time to time walked forward in the solemn silence, only broken by a sigh from the hold uttered by some black sleeper, dreaming, perhaps, of the village far-away in his own land; then laying the glass on the bulwark, Mark carefully swept the horizon--astronomer like--in search of the star that would send hope and delight into his breast--the lamp shown by the _Nautilus_ coming down to their aid. All this was done again and again, but there was no sign of that help, and he felt angry with Captain Maitland and the lieutenant for forgetting them, or leaving them to their fate. "But of course they could not know what a pickle we are in," he said to himself the next moment, as he resumed his patient watch, going to and fro, noting that steersman and blacks were all intent upon their duty, while Tom Fillot was forward keeping a bright look-out.