Only--the wind would not come, and the ship lay upon the water as motionless, except for the current, as though she had been fixed upon the solid and firm-set earth. And, meanwhile, the blindness which had seized upon one man after another was still continuing its progress, and more than half--indeed, three-parts--of the complement of the _Emperor of the Moon_ were now sightless. Of seventeen sailors, eleven were down with this terrible, paralysing affliction, as well as one officer, Mr. Fagg; so that, if now the long-hoped-for breeze should spring up, there were scarcely enough men in the whole vessel to set the sails, even including Pooley--who certainly could not go aloft with safety!--and Charke and Gilbert; while, presuming all of them could do so and the wind should freshen much, they would undoubtedly be far from able to take them in again. And then the result must be swift--undoubted--deadly. The ship would rush to her destruction, would be beyond all control; she would either go over under the force of the elements, or be dashed to pieces on some solitary coral island which she might encounter in her mad, ungovernable flight. Consequently, there remained but one chance, and one only, for her, that chance being to forgo the advantage of the wind when it came at last, and to let her drift under bare poles until they were seen, and perhaps rescued, by a passing vessel. But, again there arose the fear in all hearts, as already it had done before--namely, would any other ship which might encounter them be willing to take on board men in such a plight as they were, and suffering from a disease that none could venture to doubt must be contagious?