ile the notes of Larry's fiddle sounded in my ears. There, sure
enough, he was, seated on the after-thwart, with the fiddle at his chin,
working away with right good-will. I sat up and looked at him with
amazement.

"Shure, Mr Terence, I wasn't going to leave that behind after it had
been saved from fire and water, so I took it into the boat the first
thing, and Mr Nettleship gave me leave to play it, just to cheer up he
boys a bit."

The music had certainly had that effect, for all the people wore more
cheerful countenances than they did the day before. Larry, however, put
his fiddle back in its case while breakfast was served out. It
consisted only of wet biscuit, a modicum of ham, and a small taste of
liquor. The water Nettleship said he should keep till mid-day, to serve
out with the pork.

The sea was still rough, though there was much less than on the previous
day, and careful steering was necessary to keep the boat free from
water. As there was nothing for the men to do, Nettleship advised us to
spin yarns and sing songs in the intervals of Larry's playing. He was
ready enough to go on moving his bow as long as he had leave.

During the day the clouds cleared away, and the sea went down still
more. We were thankful for this, as we could now dry our clothes, and,
what was of more importance, our biscuits, and move about in the boat to
stretch our limbs. But then, again, with a calm we might be delayed,
and, after all, perish from hunger and thirst. Nettleship, I daresay,
thought this, but notwithstanding cheered us up with the hopes of
reaching land or being taken on board some vessel. Next night passed
much as the others had done. The sun rose in a clear sky, and as it got
above the horizon the wind dropped, and there appeared every likelihood
of a perfect calm. Our scanty provisions were served out, and then
Nettleship, as he had done the day before, set us to spinning yarns and
singing; but even those who had the best voices could scarcely bring out
a note, and several appeared but little inclined to talk. Larry,
however, kept his fiddle going, and Tom and I talked, and tried to draw
out the men to tell something about themselves. At last my throat felt
like a dust-bin, and I suspect the rest were very much in the same
condition. There we were, floating out in the Atlantic, hundreds of
miles away from help, as far as we could tell, and the calm might
continue after the gale for a week or mor