was slight, and in the event of rougher weather, their fate would
be certain.

For six days and nights the raft was tossed about on the open sea. It
could scarcely be said that it sailed, although as large a mast and
piece of canvas as they could set up urged it slowly though the water
when the wind was strong. As to steering, that was next to impossible,
and in truth it did not matter much how they steered.

Constant exposure by night and by day now began to tell on the less
robust of the crew. Little Polly, however, was not one of these. She
possessed a naturally good constitution, and was, besides, specially
cared for by her father, who devoted all the powers of an inventive mind
to the strengthening and improving of "the bower." In this he was ably
assisted by Philosopher Jack, whose love for the child deepened daily as
he watched the sweet contented manner with which she received every
drenching--and she got many--and the anxious way in which she inquired
for, and sought to help, those of the party whose health began to fail.

Among these latter was Ben Trench.

"Ah! Polly," said Ben one sultry forenoon when she brought him a glass
of sweetened lime-juice and water, "you're a kind little nurse. I
really don't know how I should get on without you."

"Upon my word," said little Wilkins, pouting, "you're a grateful fellow!
Here have I been nursing you all the morning, yet you seem to think
nothing of that in comparison with Polly's glass of lime-juice."

"Come, Watty, don't be jealous," said Ben; "it's not the glass of
lime-juice, but Polly's sympathetic face beaming behind it, that does me
so much good. Besides, you know, Polly's a girl, and a girl is always a
better nurse than a man; you must admit that."

Watty was not at all prepared to admit that, but his being spoken of as
a man did much to mollify his hurt feelings.

"But I do hope you feel better to-day," said Polly, observing with some
anxiety the short, half-breathless manner in which the invalid spoke.

"Oh yes! I feel better--that is to say, I think I do. Sometimes I do,
and sometimes I don't. You know, Polly, I came on this voyage chiefly
on account of my health, and of course I must expect to be a little
damaged by so much exposure, though your good father has indeed done his
best to shelter me. Why, do you know, I sometimes think the berth he
has made for me between the logs here is a greater triumph of his
inventive genius than yo