ce?" inquired Gurney.

"W'ichever _you_ please."

"Och! we wouldn't need capers-sarse," interposed Briant; "av we only had
the mutton, I'd cut enough o' capers meself to do for the sarce, I
would."

"It matters little what you'd give," cried Glynn, "for we can't get it
at any price just now. Don't you think, captain, that we might have our
breakfast to-night? It would save time in the morning, you know."

There was a general laugh at this proposal, yet there was a strong
feeling in the minds of some that if it were consistent with their rules
to have breakfast served out then and there, they would gladly have
consented to go without it next morning.

Thus, with laugh and jest, and good-natured repartee, did these men bear
the pangs of hunger for many days. They were often silent during long
intervals, and sometimes they became talkative and sprightly, but it was
observed that, whether they conversed earnestly or jestingly, their
converse ran, for the most part, on eating and drinking, and in their
uneasy slumbers, during the intervals between the hours of work and
watching, they almost invariably dreamed of food.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

PROGRESS OF THE LONG VOYAGE--STORY-TELLING AND JOURNALISING.

Many weeks passed away, but the _Maid of the Isle_ still held on her
course over the boundless ocean.

Day after day came and went, the sun rose in the east morning after
morning, ran its appointed course, and sank, night after night, on the
western horizon, but little else occurred to vary the monotony of that
long, long voyage. When the sun rose, its bright rays leapt from the
bosom of the ocean; when it set, the same bosom of the great deep
received its descending beams. No land, no sail appeared to the anxious
gazers in that little boat, which seemed to move across, yet never to
reach the boundaries of that mighty circle of water and sky, in the
midst of which they lay enchained, as if by some wicked enchanter's
spell.

Breezes blew steadily at times and urged them swiftly on towards the
circumference, but it fled as fast as they approached. Then it fell
calm, and the weary men resumed their oars, and with heavy hearts and
weakened arms tugged at the boat which seemed to have turned into a mass
of lead. At such times a dead silence was maintained, for the work,
which once would have been to them but child's play, had now become
severe and heavy labour. Still they did not murmur. Even the
cross-gra