Chapter 32

CHAPTER XXXII.

DECEMBER 8th to 17th.--When night came we wrapped ourselves in
our sails. For my own part, worn out with the fatigue of the
long watch in the top-mast, I slept for several hours; M.
Letourneur and Andre did the same, and Miss Herbey obtained
sufficient rest to relieve the tired expression that her
countenance had lately been wearing. The night passed quietly.
As the raft was not very heavily laden the waves did not break
over it at all, and we were consequently able to keep ourselves
perfectly dry. To say the truth, it was far better for us that
the sea should remain somewhat boisterous, for any diminution in
the swell of the waves would indicate that; the wind had dropped,
and it was with a feeling of regret that when the morning came I
had to note down "weather calm" in my journal.

In these low latitudes the heat in the day-time is so intense,
and the sun burns with such an incessant glare, that the entire
atmosphere becomes pervaded with a glowing vapour. The wind,
too, blows only in fitful gusts and through long intervals of
perfect calm the sails flap idly and uselessly against the mast.
Curtis and the boatswain, however, are of opinion that we are not
entirely dependent on the wind. Certain indications, which a
sailor's eye alone could detect, make them almost sure that we
are being carried along by a westerly current, that flows at the
rate of three or four miles an hour. If they are not mistaken,
this is a circumstance that may materially assist our progress,
and at which we can hardly fail to rejoice, for the high
temperature often makes our scanty allowance of water quite
inadequate to allay our thirst.

But with all our hardships I must confess that our condition is
far preferable to what it was when we were still clinging to the
"Chancellor." Here at least we have a comparatively solid
platform beneath our feet, and we are relieved from the incessant
dread of being carried down with a foundering vessel. In the
day-time we can move about with a certain amount of freedom,
discuss the weather, watch the sea, and examine our fishing-
lines; whilst at night we can rest securely under the shelter of
our sails.

"I really think, Mr. Kazallon," said Andre Letourneur to me a few
days after we had embarked, "that our time on board the raft
passes as pleasantly as it did upon Ham Rock; and the raft has
one advantage even over the reef, for it is capable of motion."

"Yes, Andre," replied, "as long as the wind continues favourable
the raft has decidedly the advantage; but supposing the wind
shifts, what then?"

"Oh, we mustn't think about that," he said; "let us keep up our
courage while we can."

I felt that he was right, and