nd, taking
the helm, began to rate me over again for my blunders. As we were, to
the best of my knowledge and belief, bound to Chicago, I did not care
much what he said, and I was willing he should waste his venom in any
way he pleased.

The breeze was very light and fitful. We ran out of the lagoon into the
open lake, after a while; but there was hardly wind enough there to
fill the sails. It was still dull sailing, and I was very sleepy and
stupid in spite of the abuse with which Mr. Whippleton regaled me. He
had brought his whiskey bottles back with him, and several times he
imbibed from one of them. Peter went forward with his bottle, and
stretched himself on the forecastle.

The helmsman yawned, and I yawned. The Marian, close-hauled, was not
making two knots an hour. We were headed about north-west, which was
not nearly so close to the wind as the boat could lay.

"We shall not get to Chicago in twenty-four hours at this rate," said
Mr. Whippleton, when he had wasted all his vituperative rhetoric upon
me.

"Not in forty-eight, if you don't keep her a little closer to the
wind," I replied.

"Do you sail this boat, or do I?" he demanded.

"Well, sir, you and that whiskey bottle appear to be doing it just now;
and between you both you are not doing it very well."

"None of your impudence! Perhaps you are conceited enough to think you
could do it better."

"I confess that I am."

"You will mind your own business, Phil."

"I haven't any to mind."

"Go to sleep then!"

"What time is it, sir?"

"About half past twelve."

"I will take my turn at the helm, if you like."

"I won't trust you at the helm. You make too many blunders."

"Then I will take a nap myself."

"That will be the only sensible thing you have done to-night."

I thought it would be sensible, at any rate, and as there was not much
comfort in talking to a man as waspish as he was, I concluded to take
his advice. I stretched myself on the cushions, on the lee side, out of
the helmsman's way, covered myself with the blanket, and was soon
asleep. Perhaps I am conceited: I will not say that I am not; but in
the light of subsequent events, I must say it was the only blunder I
made that night--going to sleep.

I was tired enough to sleep soundly, and as the yacht was bound to
Chicago, I had nothing more to worry me; so I did sleep soundly. If
nothing had occurred to disturb me, doubtless I should have made up my
six hours before morning