oble subject for a masterpiece.

Such are a few of the sights of the great South Sea. But there is no
telling all. The Pacific is populous as China.

CHAPTER XIV
Jarl's Misgivings

About this time an event took place. My good Viking opened his mouth,
and spoke. The prodigy occurred, as, jacknife in hand, he was bending
over the midship oar; on the loom, or handle, of which he kept our
almanac; making a notch for every set sun. For some forty-eight hours
past, the wind had been light and variable. It was more than
suspected that a current was sweeping us northward.

Now, marking these things, Jarl threw out the thought, that the more
wind, and the less current, the better; and if a long calm came on,
of which there was some prospect, we had better take to our oars.

Take to our oars! as if we were crossing a ferry, and no ocean
leagues to traverse. The idea indirectly suggested all possible
horrors. To be rid of them forthwith, I proceeded to dole out our
morning meal. For to make away with such things, there is nothing
better than bolting something down on top of them; albeit, oft
repeated, the plan is very apt to beget dyspepsia; and the dyspepsia
the blues.

But what of our store of provisions? So far as enough to eat was
concerned, we felt not the slightest apprehension; our supplies
proving more abundant than we had anticipated. But, curious to tell,
we felt but little inclination for food. It was water, bright water,
cool, sparkling water, alone, that we craved. And of this, also, our
store at first seemed ample. But as our voyage lengthened, and
breezes blew faint, and calms fell fast, the idea of being deprived
of the precious fluid grew into something little short of a mono-
mania; especially with Jarl.

Every hour or two with the hammer and chisel belonging to the tinder
box keg, he tinkered away at the invaluable breaker; driving down the
hoops, till in his over solicitude, I thought he would burst them
outright.

Now the breaker lay on its bilge, in the middle of the boat, where
more or less sea-water always collected. And ever and anon, dipping
his finger therein, my Viking was troubled with the thought, that
this sea-water tasted less brackish than that alongside. Of course
the breaker must be leaking. So, he would turn it over, till its wet
side came uppermost; when it would quickly become dry as a bone. But
now, with his knife, he would gently probe the joints of the staves;
shake his he