ce he had
done anything but moodily scan the sea or shore. Yet, on the morning of
leaving the settlement, he had counted the notches on a calendar-stick
he carried, and had been astonished to find them but twenty-two in
number. Taking out his knife, he cut two nicks in the wicker gunwale of
the coracle. That brought him to twenty-four days. The mutiny had taken
place on the 13th of January; it was now the 6th of February. "Surely,"
thought he, "the Ladybird might have returned by this time." There was
no one to tell him that the Ladybird had been driven into Port Davey by
stress of weather, and detained there for seventeen days.

That night the wind fell, and they had to take to their oars. Rowing
all night, they made but little progress, and Rufus Dawes suggested that
they should put in to the shore and wait until the breeze sprang up.
But, upon getting under the lee of a long line of basaltic rocks which
rose abruptly out of the sea, they found the waves breaking furiously
upon a horseshoe reef, six or seven miles in length. There was nothing
for it but to coast again. They coasted for two days, without a sign
of a sail, and on the third day a great wind broke upon them from the
south-east, and drove them back thirty miles. The coracle began to leak,
and required constant bailing. What was almost as bad, the rum cask,
that held the best part of their water, had leaked also, and was now
half empty. They caulked it, by cutting out the leak, and then plugging
the hole with linen.

"It's lucky we ain't in the tropics," said Frere. Poor Mrs. Vickers,
lying in the bottom of the boat, wrapped in her wet shawl, and chilled
to the bone with the bitter wind, had not the heart to speak. Surely
the stifling calm of the tropics could not be worse than this bleak and
barren sea.

The position of the four poor creatures was now almost desperate. Mrs.
Vickers, indeed, seemed completely prostrated; and it was evident that,
unless some help came, she could not long survive the continued exposure
to the weather. The child was in somewhat better case. Rufus Dawes had
wrapped her in his woollen shirt, and, unknown to Frere, had divided
with her daily his allowance of meat. She lay in his arms at night, and
in the day crept by his side for shelter and protection. As long as she
was near him she felt safe. They spoke little to each other, but when
Rufus Dawes felt the pressure of her tiny hand in his, or sustained the
weight of her head