Although Francisco had not been on deck, he knew pretty well whereabouts he then was. Taking out a chart from his chest, he examined the coast to ascertain the probable distance which he might be from any prospect of succour. He calculated that he was on one of a patch of sand-banks off the coast of Loango, and about seven hundred miles from the Isle of St. Thomas--the nearest place where he might expect to fall in with a European face. From the coast he felt certain that he could not be more than forty or fifty miles at the most; but could he trust himself among the savage natives who inhabited it? He knew how ill they had been treated by Europeans; for, at that period, it was quite as common for the slave-trader to land and take away the inhabitants as slaves by force, as to purchase them in the more northern territories: still, he might be fortunate enough to fall in with some trader on the coast, as there were a few who still carried on a barter for gold-dust and ivory. We do not know--we cannot conceive a situation much more deplorable than the one we have just described to have been that of Francisco. Alone--without a chance of assistance--with only a sufficiency of food for a few days, and cut off from the rest of his fellow-creatures, with only so much _terra firma_ as would prevent his being swallowed up by the vast, unfathomable ocean, into which the horizon fell on every side around him! And his chance of escape how small! Hundreds of miles from any from whom he might expect assistance, and the only means of reaching them a small boat--a mere cockle-shell, which the first rough gale would inevitably destroy. Such, indeed, were the first thoughts of Francisco; but he soon recovered from his despondency. He was young, courageous, and buoyant with hope; and there is a feeling of pride--of trust in our own resources and exertions, which increases and stimulates us in proportion to our danger and difficulty; it is the daring of the soul proving its celestial origin and eternal duration. So intense was the heat that Francisco almost panted for sufficient air to support life, as he lay under the shade of the boat during the whole of that day; not a breath of wind disturbed the glassy wave--all nature appeared hushed into one horrible calm. It was not until the shades of night were covering the solitude that Francisco ventured forth from his retreat; but he found little relief; there was an unnatural closeness in the air--a suffocation unusual even in those climes. Francisco cast his eyes up to the vault of heaven, and was astonished to find that there were no stars visible--a gray mist covered the whole firmament. He directed his view downwards to the horizon, and that, too, was not to be defined; there was a dark bank all around it. He walked to the edge of the sand-bank; there was not even a ripple--the wide ocean appeared to be in a trance, in a state of lethargy or stupor.