glance over the ocean--
unrewarded as ever--they descend into the cabin, to obtain some
particulars of that which has saddened, almost maddened them.

CHAPTER SEVENTY TWO.

A CARD RECOVERED.

It is the fourth day since the English officers boarded the Chilian
barque. They are still on board of her, and she still afloat--the one a
sequence of the other; or, she would now be at the bottom of the sea. A
tough struggle they have had of it; only the three to manage so large a
craft in a tempest which, though short-lived, was fierce as ever swept
over the Pacific. And with no aid from any of the other three. Captain
Lantanas is still delirious, locked up in his state-room, lest, in his
violence, he may do some harm; while Don Gregorio, weak as a child,
reclines on the cabin settee, unable to go upon deck. The negro alone,
having partially recovered strength, lends some assistance.

The barque's sails still hang tattered from the spars, for they have
since encountered other winds, and had neither the time nor strength to
clear them. But they have contrived to patch up the foresail, and bend
on a new jib from some spare canvas found in the stores. With these she
is making way at the rate of some five or six knots to the hour, her
head East and by South. It is twelve o'clock mid-day, and Grummet is at
the wheel; the officers on the quarter; Crozier, sextant in hand,
"shooting the sun." They have long since given up hope of finding the
frigate, or being found by her at sea.

Aware of this, they are steering the crippled vessel towards Panama in
hope of their coming across her. In any case, that is the port where
they will be most likely to get tidings of her.

A prey to saddened thoughts are the two young officers, as they stand on
the quarterdeck of the Chilian vessel taking the altitude of the sun,
with instruments her own skipper is no longer able to use. Fortunately,
these had not been carried off, else there would be but little
likelihood of their making Panama.

At best, they will reach it with broken hearts; for they have now heard
the whole story in all its dark details, so far as Don Gregorio could
give them.

Having already determined their longitude by the barque's chronometer,
they have kept it by log-reckoning, and their present observation is but
to confirm them in the latitude.

"Starboard your helm!" shouts Crozier to Grummet. "Give her another
point to port. Keep her east-by-south. St