It was the latter end of December; it therefore did not surprise the Commander of the corvette, that as the sun rose on the following morning the gulf wind fell, and the appearance of the sky showed signs of heavy weather from the south-west. They had run during the night out of sight of land and from all the vessels, save the huge Commerce de Marseilles and the two frigates, which were in sight about three leagues ahead. Before mid-day there was a short calm, with a long swell from the south and east. Madame Volney and her daughters, and Mabel, came on deck, though it was extremely cold; but, like all young voyagers on the vasty deep, they paid their initiate to its power, by being sick all night, and anxious for fresh air. “I am sorry,” said William Thornton, “to see that you and the young ladies have been suffering, Madame Volney.” Poor Mabel looked even paler than usual. “It is a suffering few escape,” said Madame Volney, “but I suppose it is what we must endure for a few days; indeed, very likely, if we have a good passage, we shall not have time to become good sailors.” “I trust you will not suffer beyond to-day, or to-morrow at furthest,” said our hero. “We must have sailed very fast in the night, Mr. Thornton; I see no land anywhere. What an immense ship that is away before us!” said Agatha Volney, trying to shake off the disagreeable sensation of giddiness she experienced. “That is the Commerce de Marseilles, and most likely the Puissant and the Perle are with her.” Madame Volney sighed, saying— “The Puissant was the last ship my noble but unfortunate husband commanded; it is somewhat strange that we should be proceeding to England with her.” Captain O’Loughlin joined the party, and made an attempt to express his sorrow at seeing them all looking so pale; but as the day wore on, and a light breeze sprung up from the south, they all began to get gradually much better. Little Mabel seemed to regain some little portion of spirit; the news of her mother’s safety and the prospect of meeting her in England cheered her. And as the sickness wore off—for sometimes children suffer less than adults—she felt a desire to walk about the deck, William Thornton aiding and assisting her, and chatting to her of her future prospects, making the day pass pleasantly enough; the Babet working to windward under a light breeze, but with a very threatening sky, heavy masses of clouds rising rapidly in the south-east quarter. After the ladies had retired, our hero and his Commander kept pacing the deck in conversation. “What are you to do with your little charge,” demanded Captain O’Loughlin, “when we reach Plymouth? I had not time to ask you before sailing.”