and
it alone, were they enabled to "ride out" the gale.

Had they trusted to chance and given way to indolence,--all the more
natural under the very hopelessness of their situation,--they would
never have outlived that day. The _Catamaran_ might not have gone to
the bottom, but she would have gone to pieces; and it is not likely that
any of her crew would have survived the catastrophe.

As it was, both raft and crew weathered the gale in safety. Before
sunset the wind had fallen to a gentle zephyr; the tropical sea was
gradually returning to its normal state of comparative calm; and the
_Catamaran_, with her broad sail once more spread to the breeze, was
scudding on,--guided in her course by the golden luminary slowly
descending towards the western edge of a cloudless heaven.

CHAPTER EIGHTY NINE.

A STARTLING SHRIEK.

The night proved pleasanter than the day. The wind was no longer an
enemy; and the breeze that succeeded was more advantageous than would
have been a dead calm; since it steadied the craft amidst the rolling of
the swell.

Before midnight the swell itself had subsided. It had never reached any
great height, as the gale had been of short continuance; and for the
same reason it had suddenly gone down again.

With the return of smooth water they were able to betake themselves to
rest. They needed it, after such a series of fatigues and fears; and
having swallowed a few morsels of their unpalatable food, and washed it
down by a cup of diluted Canary, they all went to rest.

Neither the wet planking on which they were compelled to encouch
themselves, nor the sea-soaked garments clinging round their bodies,
hindered them from obtaining sleep.

In a colder clime their condition would have been sufficiently
comfortless; but in the ocean atmosphere of the torrid zone the night
hours are warm enough to render "wet sheets" not only endurable, but at
times even pleasant.

I have said that all of them went to sleep. It was not their usual
custom to do so. On other nights one was always upon the watch,--either
the captain himself, the ex-cook, or the boy. Of course Lilly Lalee
enjoyed immunity from this kind of duty: since she was not, properly
speaking, one of the "crew," but only a "passenger."

Their customary night-watch had a twofold object: to hold the
_Catamaran_ to her course, and to keep a lookout over the sea,--the
latter having reference to the chance if seeing a sail.

On this pa