lead in colour, but as smooth as
glass, though every now and then there came a long, slow, gently-moving
undulation, as if there were some unseen power beneath the water. There
was something, I thought, very ominous in the whole appearance of the
atmosphere. The barometer, the seaman's warning friend, began also to
sink, and each hour the quicksilver got lower and lower. Thus passed
two days, but not a breath of wind came. Captain Cranley paced his deck
with uneasy steps. The master likewise looked far from satisfied, I
thought, with the appearance of the weather, and kept continually
glancing round the horizon, in search of the expected sign of a change.
The sails hung idly down against the masts, every now and then flapping
loudly, as the vessel rolled slowly in the swell. It would have been
more seamanlike had they been furled; but, to tell the truth, our
commander appeared seized with a fit of infatuation, which deprived him
of his usual clear judgment on professional matters. He had not got
over his late unjust reprimand. With a morbid feeling of injured
honour, he allowed it to rankle in his bosom. People are apt to have a
foreboding of evil; but on the present occasion there were ample reasons
for dreading mischief.

"To my mind, if we were to furl every stitch of canvas, and send down
our topmasts, we should be acting like seamen," said old Popples, as I
was forward, attending to some duty.

"Why do you say that?" I asked. "The sea is like glass, and there's no
wind, nor chance of any, as far as I can judge."

"Because I haven't sailed round the world for the last forty years with
my eyes shut, Mr D'Arcy," he replied. "Be sure, when the weather's
like this, there's no slight gale coming on; but the commander is a good
seaman, and I suppose he'll give the order soon."

The commander, however, did not seem to apprehend any immediate change
of weather. Not so Mr Pullen. Whenever he went into the cabin, he
found that the silver in the barometer had sunk lower than ever; and
each time he came on deck, looking more anxious than before. After some
time spent in watching the sky to the northward, he walked up to the
commander.

"Captain Cranley, sir," said he, "it's my duty to tell you that, in my
opinion, this weather won't last many hours longer--not to say minutes,
perhaps; and if the squall I look for catches us with all this canvas
set, it will carry the masts over the side to a certainty."

"