sery. I need not say that this barrel contained rum.

Whether it was the same that had been lowered into the long-boat with
such pernicious effect I cannot say. Perhaps it was. It may have
floated and been picked up again; or it may have been still another one,
for among the stores of the ill-fated barque there was a plentiful
supply of this horrible liquor. It constituted the chief "tipple" of
the dissipated crew--the main source of their indulgence and bestial
enjoyment. A vile cheap stuff it was, freely served out to them, scarce
kept under lock and key; and there was not an hour in which one or other
of them might not have been seen refreshing himself at this odious
fountain. If the barrel of pork had been forgotten and left behind,
here was a substitute; and the sight of this reeking cask, strange to
say, produced a cheering effect upon numbers of those savage men. Many
were heard proclaiming, in a sort of jocular bravado, that if the rum
wouldn't keep them alive it would help them to die!

CHAPTER SIXTY THREE.

As soon as day dawned every eye was bent upon the horizon. Not a point
of the whole circle that was not scanned with the minutest earnestness
by one and all. Round and round they turned, sweeping the surface with
anxious glances, and raising themselves as high as they could in order
to command the most distant view.

But all ended in disappointment. No sail was in sight; nothing that had
life or motion; not even fish or fowl broke the monotony of that vast
surface of sleeping water.

There were no signs of the gig: she must have rowed off in some
different direction; no signs either of the wreck, the breeze had
carried us far from it; but even had we remained near, there might have
been seen no traces of it. All had long since gone to the bottom of the
sea.

The sun rose higher and higher, and at noon stood right over our heads.
We had no protection from his beams--they were almost hot enough to
blister us.

The calm continued--there was not enough motion in the air to have
wafted a feather, and the raft lay as still as if it had been aground.
It only moved, when those who were on it passed from place to place.

There was not much changing about. There was no great room for it.
There were in all thirty-four of us, and the bodies of the men--some
sitting and others lying--covered nearly the whole space. There was no
reason for moving about. Most were sullen and despondent, and kept