wide
sea, with an impenetrable wall of thickest darkness closing him in on
all sides.

As he thus lay there helpless, he had leisure to reflect for the first
time upon the full bitterness of his situation. Adrift in the fog, and
in the night, and borne onward swiftly down into the Bay of Fundy--that
was his position. And what could he do? That was the one question
which he could not answer. Giving way now to the rush of despair, he
lay for some time motionless, feeling the rocking of the waves, and the
breath of the wind, and the chill damp of the fog, yet unable to do
anything against these enemies. For nearly an hour he lay thus
inactive, and at the end of that time his lost energies began to
return. He rose and looked around. The scene had not changed at all;
in fact, there was no scene to change. There was nothing but black
darkness all around. Suddenly something knocked against the boat. He
reached out his hand, and touched a piece of wood, which the next
instant slipped from his grasp. But the disappointment was not without
its alleviation, for he thought that he might come across some bits of
drift wood, with which he could do something, perhaps, for his escape.
And so buoyant was his soul, and so obstinate his courage, that this
little incident of itself served to revive his faculties. He went to
the stern of the boat, and sitting there, he tried to think upon what
might be best to be done.

What could be done in such a situation? He could swim, but of what
avail was that? In what direction could he swim, or what progress
could he make, with such a tide? As to paddling, he thought of that no
more; paddling was exhausted, and his board was useless. Nothing
remained, apparently, but inaction. Inaction was indeed hard, and it
was the worst condition in which he could be placed, for in such a
state the mind always preys upon itself; in such a state trouble is
always magnified, and the slow time passes more slowly. Yet to this
inaction he found himself doomed.

He floated on now for hours, motionless and filled with despair,
listening to the dash of the waves, which were the only sounds that
came to his ears. And so it came to pass, in process of time, that by
incessant attention to these monotonous sounds, they ceased to be
altogether monotonous, but seemed to assume various cadences and
intonations. His sharpened ears learned at last to distinguish between
the dash of large waves and the plash