In fact, so great was the loss of strength which we had all suffered, that we came near perishing in a very singular and almost incredible manner. After having been in the water a sufficient time, as I thought, I discovered, on trying to get into the boat again, that I was utterly unable to do so, through sheer weakness. At the same time I observed Max making a similar attempt nearer the stern, with no better success. We were all in the water except Charlie; any difficulty in getting into the boat again had not been dreamed of; but I began now to feel seriously alarmed. My feet were drawn forcibly under the boat's bottom, and even to maintain my hold of the gunwale as we rose and sunk with the swell, required an exhausting effort, which I knew I could not long continue. Arthur was swimming near the stern, holding on to the end of a rope, which he had cast over before coming in. By great exertion I raised myself so far as to be able to look over the gunwale, when I saw Browne in the same position directly opposite me.

"Can't you get into the boat?" I asked.

"Really I don't think I can," said he, speaking like a person exhausted.

"I can't," added Max faintly; "it is as much as I can do to maintain my hold." At this moment a voice was heard calling out apparently from a distance, "Hilloa! where are you? Hilloa!" It was hoarse, strained, and distressed. Almost immediately the cry was repeated much nearer at hand, as it seemed; and then a third time, faint, and distant as at first. I was horror-stricken; the cry sounded strange and fearful, and I did not recognize the voice. Then it occurred to me that it must be Morton, who had swam out farther than the rest, and losing sight of the boat for a moment in the swell of the sea, had become bewildered and alarmed. This might easily happen: if but the length of a wave distant, we should be invisible to him, unless both should chance to

rise on the swell at the same time. The moon, too, had just passed behind a dark mass of cloud, and the sea lay in partial obscurity. I now heard Browne and Arthur shouting, in order, as I supposed, to guide Morton by the sound of their voices. I, too, called out as loudly as I was able. For a moment all was still again. Then I heard some one say "There he is !" and a dark speck appeared on the crest of a wave a little to the right. At this moment the moon shone out brightly, and I saw that it was Morton, swimming toward us. He reached the boat panting and out of breath, and catching hold near me with an almost convulsive effort, remained some minutes without being able to speak a word. Arthur, who had observed Max's struggles to get into the yawl, now swam round to where Morton and I were hanging on, and taking hold also, his additional weight depressed the gunwale nearly to the water's edge, when he got his knee over it; and at last, by a sudden effort, rolled into the boat. He then helped me to get in, and we two the rest.

Morton said that after swimming but a short distance from the boat, as he supposed, he found himself getting tired and very weak, and on turning, greatly to his surprise, could see nothing of us. In reality, however, there was nothing surprising in this, his face being on a level with the surface, and the boat, with neither sail nor mast up, being much less in height than the long smooth swells. Perceiving how great was his danger, and becoming somewhat alarmed, he had called out in the manner described: when he heard us shouting in return, he was actually swimming away from us, and it was only by following the direction of our voices that he had at last reached the boat.

That night we kept no regular watch as we had hitherto done, or at least we made no arrangement for that purpose, though one or another of us was awake most of the time watching Charlie, who continued, however, in the same deep lethargic slumber.

For my part, it was a long time before I could sleep at all. There was something in the fate that threatened us more appalling than the terrors of death. The impressions produced by the ravings, and cries, and struggles of our poor little fellow-sufferer were yet fresh, and they could not be effaced. All in vain I strove to control the workings of my morbidly-excited imagination—I could not shut out the fearful thoughts and anticipations which the occurrences of the day so naturally and obviously suggested. The lapse of twenty-four hours might find us all reduced to the same helpless state, deprived of consciousness and reason. One after another must succumb to the fever, and become delirious, until he who should last fall its victim should find himself alone in the midst of his stricken and raving companions—alone retaining reason, no longer to be accounted a blessing, since it could only serve to make him sensible to all the accumulated horrors of his situation. I shuddered as I contemplated the possibility that I might be that most wretched one, the last of all to sink and perish. At length I began to imagine that my mind was actually beginning to fail, and that I was becoming delirious. At first it was but a fearful suspicion. Soon, however, it took such strong possession of me, that I was compelled to relinquish all thought of sleep. Sitt ng up, I saw that Arthur was awake, and by the side of Charlie. His face was upturned, and his hands clasped, as if in prayer. I could see his lips move, and even the tears trickling from beneath his closed eyelids, for the moonlight fell full upon his countenance. He did not observe me, and after a few moments he lay down again without speaking, and soon appeared to slumber like the rest.

Pressing my hands to my head, I leaned over the stern, my face almost touching the water. A current of cooler air was stirring close to the surface, as if it were the breathing of the sea, for there was no wind. How preter

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naturally still everything seemed-what an intensity of silence! How softly the pale moonlight rested upon the water! A grand and solemn repose wrapped the heavens and the ocean-no sound beneath all that vast blue dome -no motion but the heaving of the long sluggish swell. Gradually I became calmer; the excitement and perturbation of my mind began to subside, and at length I felt as though I could sleep. As I resumed my place by the side of Browne, he moved, as if about to awake, and murmured indistinctly some broken sentences. From the words that escaped him, he was dreaming of that far-off home which he was to behold no more. In fancy he was wandering again by the banks of the Clyde, the scene of many a schoolboy ramble. But it seemed as though the shadow of present realities darkened even his dreams, and he beheld these familiar haunts no longer in the joyous light of early days. "How strange it looks!" he muttered slowly; "how dark the river is-how deep and dark !—it seems to me it was not so then, Robert." Truly, companion in suffering, this is no falsely-coloured dream of thine, for we have all come at last into deep and dark waters.

CHAPTER X.

A SAIL.

THE CACHELOT AND HIS ASSAILANTS-THE COMBAT-
NEW ACQUAINTANCES.

"Strange creatures round us sweep;
Strange things come up to look at us,
The monsters of the deep."

THE first thought that flashed through my mind with returning consciousness in the morning, was, “This is the last day for hope; unless relief comes to-day in some shape, we must perish." I was the first awake, and glancing at the faces of my companions lying about in the bottom of the boat, I could not help shuddering. They had a strange and unnatural look-a miserable expression of pain and weakness. All that was familiar and pleasant to look upon had vanished from those sharpened and haggard features. Their closed eyes seemed singularly sunken; and their matted hair, sunburnt skin, and soiled clothing, added something of wildness to the misery of their appearance.

Browne, who had slept beside me, was breathing hard, and started every now and then, as if in pain. Charlie slumbered so peacefully, and breathed so gently, that for a moment I was alarmed, and doubted whether he was breathing at all, until I stooped down and watched him. closely. There were still no indications of a breeze. A school of whales was visible about a quarter of a mile to the westward, spouting and pursuing their unwieldy sport;