ined Tarquin became subdued in spirit by the influence of the
calm endurance and good-humour of his comrades. But the calms seldom
lasted long. The winds, which happily continued favourable, again
ruffled the surface of the sea, and sometimes blew so briskly as to
oblige them to take in a reef or two in their sails. The oars were
gladly drawn in, and the spirits of the men rose as the little boat bent
over to the blast, lost her leaden qualities, and danced upon the
broad-backed billows, like a cork. There was no rain during all this
time; little or no stormy weather; and, but for their constant exposure
to the hot sun by day and the cold chills by night, the time might have
been said to pass even pleasantly, despite the want of a sufficiency of
food. Thus day after day and night after night flew by, and week after
week came and went, and still the _Maid of the Isle_ held on her course
over the boundless ocean.

During all that time the one and a quarter ounces of salt junk and
biscuit and the eighth of a pint of water were weighed and measured out
to each man, three times a day, with scrupulous care and exactness, lest
a drop or a crumb of the food that was more precious than diamonds
should be lost. The men had all become accustomed to short allowance
now, and experienced no greater inconvenience than a feeling of
lassitude, which feeling increased daily, but by such imperceptible
degrees that they were scarcely conscious of it, and were only
occasionally made aware of the great reduction of their strength when
they attempted to lift any article which, in the days of their full
vigour, they could have tossed into the air, but which they could
scarcely move now. When, however, the fair breeze enabled them to glide
along under sail, and they lay enjoying complete rest, they experienced
no unwonted sensations of weakness; their spirits rose, as the spirits
of sailors always will rise when the waves are rippling at the bow and a
white track forming in the wake; and they spent the time--when not
asleep--in cheerful conversation and in the spinning of long yarns.
They did not sing, however, as might have been expected--they were too
weak for that--they called the feeling "lazy," some said they "couldn't
be bothered" to sing. No one seemed willing to admit that his strength
was in reality abated.

In story-telling the captain, the doctor, and Glynn shone conspicuous.
And when all was going smoothly and well, the ane