th, drove them wearily back once more in their tracks, and then
bore them eastward.

For another week they drove before the breeze, feeding on the
cocoa-nuts. But the water in the calabashes was gone. Then on
the morning of the second Friday, the fourteenth day of their
sea-wanderings, just when the sun in mid heaven was blazing its
noon-heat upon them and most of the little crew were lying under
the shade of the hut and the sail to doze away the hours of tedious
hunger, they heard the cry of "Land!" and leaping to their feet gazed
ahead at the welcome sight. With sail and paddle they urged the craft
on toward the island.

Then night fell, and with it squalls of wind and rain came
and buffeted them till they had to forsake the paddles for the
bailing-vessels to keep the boat afloat. Taking down the sails they
spread them flat to catch the pouring rain, and then poured this
precious fresh water--true water of life to them--into their
calabashes. But when morning came no land could be seen anywhere. It
was as though the island had been a land of enchantment and mirage,
and now had faded away. Yet hope sprang in them erect and glad next
day when land was sighted again; but the sea and the wind, as though
driven by the spirits of contrariness, smote them back.

For two more days they guided the canoe with the tiller and tried to
set her in one steady direction. Then, tired and out of heart, after
sixteen days of ceaseless and useless effort, they gave it up and let
her drift, for the winds and currents to take her where they would.

At night each man stood in his canoe almost starving and parched with
thirst, with aching back, stooping to dip the water from the canoe and
rising to pour it over the side. For hour after hour, while the calm
moon slowly climbed the sky, each slaved at his dull task. Lulled by
the heave and fall of the long-backed rollers as they slid under the
keels of the canoes, the men nearly dropped asleep where they
stood. The quiet waters crooned to them like a mother singing an old
lullaby--crooned and called, till a voice deep within them said, "It
is better to lie down and sleep and die than to live and fight and
starve."

Then a moan from the sleeping child, or a sight of a streaming ray
of moonlight on the face of its mother would send that nameless Voice
shivering back to its deep hiding-place--and the man would stoop and
bail again.

Each evening as it fell saw their anxious eyes looking w