by, like a dark vision and, ere another minute, her form
was beginning to grow less distinct, in a thickening body of the spray to
leeward.

"She is going out of sight in the mist!" exclaimed Wilder, when he drew
his breath, after the fearful suspense of the few last moments.

"Ay, in mist, or clouds," responded Nighthead, who now kept obstinately at
his elbow, watching with the most jealous distrust, the smallest movement
of his unknown Commander.

"In the heavens, or in the sea, I care not, provided she be gone."

"Most seamen would rejoice to see a strange sail, from the hull of a
vessel shaved to the deck like this."

"Men often court their destruction, from ignorance of their own interests.
Let him drive on, say I, and pray I! He goes four feet to our one; and now
I ask no better favour than that this hurricane may blow until the sun
shall rise."

Nighthead started, and cast an oblique glance which resembled
denunciation, at his companion. To his blunted faculties, and
superstitious mind, there was profanity in thus invoking the tempest, at a
moment when the winds seemed already to be pouring out their utmost wrath.

"This is a heavy squall, I will allow," he said, "and such an one as many
mariners pass whole lives without seeing; but he knows little of the sea
who thinks there is not more wind where this comes from."

"Let it blow!" cried the other, striking his hands together a little
wildly; "I pray only for wind!"

All the doubts of Nighthead, as to the character of the young stranger who
had so unaccountably got possession of the office of Nicholas Nichols, if,
indeed, any remained, were now removed. He walked forward among the silent
and thoughtful crew with the air of a man whose opinion was settled.
Wilder, however, paid no attention to the movements of his subordinate,
but continued pacing the deck for hours; now casting his eyes at the
heavens or now sending frequent and anxious glances around the limited
horizon, while the "Royal Caroline" still continued drifting before the
wind, a shorn and naked wreck.

Chapter XVII.

"Sit still, and hear the last of our sea sorrow."--_Shakspeare_

The weight of the tempest had been felt at that hapless moment when Earing
and his unfortunate companions were precipitated from their giddy
elevation into the sea. Though the wind continued to blow long after this
fatal event, it was with a constantly diminishing power. As the gale
decreased the