necessity of sleep. As for
Ithuel, he had been in his hammock an hour; and Raoul now thought
seriously of following his example. Giving his instructions to the young
lieutenant who was in charge of the deck, our hero went below, and in a
few minutes he was also lost to present hopes and fears.

Everything seemed propitious to the lugger and the intentions of her
commander, The wind went down gradually, until there was little more
than air enough to keep steerage-way on the vessel, while the ripple on
the water disappeared, leaving nothing behind it but the long, heavy
ground-swell that always stirs the bosom of the ocean, like the heaving
respiration of some gigantic animal. The morning grew darker, but the
surface of the gulf was glassy and tranquil, leaving no immediate motive
for watchfulness or care.

These are the lethargic moments of a seaman's life. Days of toil bring
nights of drowsiness; and the repose of nature presents a constant
temptation to imitate her example. The reaction of excitement destroys
the disposition to indulge in the song, the jest, or the tale; and the
mind, like the body, is disposed to rest from its labors. Even the
murmuring wash of the water, as it rises and falls against the vessel's
sides, sounds like a lullaby, and sleep seems to be the one great
blessing of existence. Under such circumstances, therefore, it is not
surprising that the watch on the deck of the lugger indulged this
necessary want. It is permitted to the common men to doze at such
moments, while a few are on the alert; but even duty, in the absence of
necessity, feels its task to be irksome, and difficult of performance.
Lookout after lookout lowered his head; the young man who was seated on
the arm-chest aft began to lose his consciousness of present things, in
dreamy recollections of Provence, his home, and the girl of his youthful
admiration. The seaman at the helm alone kept his eyes open, and all
his faculties on the alert. This is a station in which vigilance is ever
required; and it sometimes happens in vessels where the rigid discipline
of a regular service does not exist, that others rely so much on the
circumstance that they forget their own duties, in depending on the due
discharge of his by the man at the wheel.

Such, to a certain degree, was now the fact on board le Feu-Follet. One
of the best seamen in the lugger was at the helm, and each individual
felt satisfied that no shift of wind could occur, no ch