And so hours passed, and then an intense feeling of drowsiness came for him to combat. It made Mark angry with nature, for it seemed to be so absurd that after taking a good mid-day rest he could not go through a night without feeling so wretchedly sleepy. But after a good sluice in a fresh bucket of water he felt better, and getting a biscuit, began to nibble that and walked forward again. Then back to the cabin, and grew melancholy to see his brother officer lying there so utterly helpless, just when he wanted his aid so badly. Once more in the bows he stood using his glass in vain, and then telling himself that it was not to be expected, he turned to Tom Fillot. "I suppose we shall not sight the _Nautilus_," he said. "No, sir, I don't expect it. Two or three days more like this, though, and we shall be in port without her help." "I hope we shall," said Mark, rather despondently; and, tucking his glass under his arm, he went aft again toward where he could see the faint glow from the binnacle light shining up in the steersman's face. He spoke to the man at the wheel. "Quite an easy job," he said. "Ay, ay, sir: easy enough. Wish it was a little rougher, for everything's so quiet that it's sleepy work." "For all of us, my lad," said Mark, quickly, and he walked forward again, half amused at his own importance, and thinking of how only the other day he was at school, and captain of the second cricket eleven, instead of commodore of two schooners. As he reached the forecastle hatch he stopped short, for a heavier breathing than usual caught his ear, and, peering forward, it was to see that Soup and the naked black who shared his watch were both fast asleep. Flushing up with anger, the midshipman took his heavy glass from under his arm to tap both blacks on the head: but second thoughts stayed his hand, and he glanced forward to see Tom Fillot's figure dimly as he leaned over the bulwark staring away ahead. "They ought to be punished," he thought; "but, poor fellows, they're tired out. I will not be hard on them." Stepping to the back of the cask, he reached over to scoop up some of the water with his right hand to splash over them, and wake them up unseen, and then he felt quite a shock, for his hand did not touch water. He thought the cask was filled right up. Then he was sure of it. Yes, filled quite full. Softly reaching over a little more, he tried again, but still could not reach. "It's more than half empty," he said to himself; and, listening intently, he could hear a trickling sound, and then a faint splash somewhere below. The lad's heart began to throb heavily, and stepping away from the hatch, he walked on tiptoe to where Tom Fillot stood close to the bowsprit, and laid his hand upon the man's shoulder. Tom Fillot started round fiercely. "Oh! you, sir," he said in a tone of relief. "I thought--" "Hist! Fetch up the other fellows quietly-armed." "What's up, sir?"