hed; and one of the seamen,
he in the rigging, rarely had his eyes off her a minute at a time. The
second coaster was a little to the southward of the frigate, under her
canvas, hauling in for the land; doubtless with a view to get as much as
possible of the breeze from the mountains, and standing slowly to the
south. She had been set by compass an hour before, and all that time had
altered her bearings but half a point, though not a league off--a proof
how light she had the wind. The third coaster, a small felucca, too, was
to the northward; but ever since the land-breeze, if breeze it could be
called, had come she had been busy turning slowly up to windward, and
seemed disposed either to cross the shoals closer in than the spot where
the lugger lay or to enter the Golo. Her shadowy outline was visible,
though drawn against the land, moving slowly athwart the lugger's hawse,
perhaps half a mile in-shore of her. As there was a current setting out
of the river, and all the vessels rode with their heads to the island,
Ithuel occasionally turned his head to watch her progress, which was so
slow, however, as to produce very little change.

After looking around him several minutes in silence Raoul turned his
face upward, and gazed at the stars.

"You probably do not know, Ghita," he said, "the use those stars may be,
and are, to us mariners. By their aid, we are enabled to tell where we
are, in the midst of the broadest oceans--to know the points of the
compass, and to feel at home even when furthest removed from it. The
seaman must go far south of the equator, at least, ere he can reach a
spot where he does not see the same stars that he beheld from the door
of his father's house."

"That is a new thought to me," answered Ghita, quickly, her tender
nature at once struck with the feeling and poetry of such an idea; "that
is a new thought to me, Raoul, and I wonder you never mentioned it
before. It is a great thing to be able to carry home and familiar
objects with you when so distant from those you love."

"Did you never hear that lovers have chosen an hour and a star, by
gazing at which they might commune together, though separated by oceans
and countries."

"That is a question you might put to yourself, Raoul; all I have ever
heard of lovers and love having come from your own lips."

"Well, then, I tell it you, and hope that we shall not part again
without selecting _our_ star and _our_ hour--if, indeed, we ever part