n of the _Bonadventure_, but at the same
time it freshened, which would render navigation more difficult.

At five o'clock in the morning the anchor was weighed. Pencroft took a
reef in the mainsail, and steered towards the north-east, so as to
sail straight for Lincoln Island.

The first day of the voyage was not marked by any incident. The
prisoner remained quiet in the fore-cabin, and as he had been a sailor
it appeared that the motion of the vessel might produce on him a
salutary reaction. Did some recollection of his former calling return
to him? However that might be he remained tranquil, astonished rather
than depressed.

The next day the wind increased, blowing more from the north,
consequently in a less favourable direction for the _Bonadventure_.
Pencroft was soon obliged to sail close-hauled, and without saying
anything about it he began to be uneasy at the state of the sea, which
frequently broke over the bows. Certainly, if the wind did not
moderate, it would take a longer time to reach Lincoln Island than it
had taken to make Tabor Island.

Indeed, on the morning of the 17th, the _Bonadventure_ had been
forty-eight hours at sea, and nothing showed that she was near the
island. It was impossible, besides, to estimate the distance
traversed, or to trust to the reckoning for the direction, as the
speed had been very irregular.

Twenty-four hours after there was yet no land in sight. The wind was
right ahead and the sea very heavy. The sails were close-reefed, and
they tacked frequently. On the 18th, a wave swept completely over the
_Bonadventure;_ and if the crew had not taken the precaution of
lashing themselves to the deck, they would have been carried away.

On this occasion Pencroft and his companions, who were occupied with
loosing themselves, received unexpected aid from the prisoner, who
emerged from the hatchway as if his sailor's instinct had suddenly
returned, broke a piece out of the bulwarks with a spar so as to let
the water which filled the deck escape. Then the vessel being clear,
he descended to his cabin without having uttered a word. Pencroft,
Gideon Spilett, and Herbert, greatly astonished, let him proceed.

Their situation was truly serious, and the sailor had reason to fear
that he was lost on the wide sea without any possibility of recovering
his course.

The night was dark and cold. However, about eleven o'clock, the wind
fell, the sea went down, and the speed of the vessel, a