deeper, until at last it
assumed the intense character of the preceding night. But still Tom
sat up, and the boat went on. The wind did not slacken, nor did the
boat's progress cease. Hours passed by in this way. As to the tides,
Tom could not tell now very well whether they were rising or falling,
and, in fact, he was quite indifferent, being satisfied fully with his
progress. As long as the wind distended his sail, and bore the boat
onward, he cared not whether the tide favored or opposed.

Hours passed, but such was Tom's excitement that he still bore up, and
thought nothing of rest or of sleep. His attention was needed, too,
and so he kept wide awake, and his ears were ever on the stretch to
hear the slightest sound. But at last the intense excitement and the
long fatigue began to overpower him. Still he struggled against his
weakness, and still he watched and listened.

Hours passed on, and the wind never ceased to fill the sail, and the
boat never ceased to go onward in a course of which Tom could have no
idea. It was a course totally different from the one which be
intended--a course which depended on the chance of the wind; and one,
too, which was varied by the sweep of the tide as it rose or fell; but
the course, such as it was, continued on, and Tom watched and waited
until, at last, from sheer exhaustion, he fell sound asleep.

His dreams were much disturbed, but he slept on soundly, and when he
awaked it was broad day. He looked around in deep disappointment. Fog
was everywhere, as before, and nothing could be seen. Whether he was
near any shore or not he could not tell. Suddenly he noticed that the
wind was blowing from an opposite direction. How to account for this
was at first a mystery, for the fog still prevailed, and the opposite
wind could not bring fog. Was it possible that the boat had turned
during his sleep? He knew that it was quite possible. Indeed, he
believed that this was the case. With this impression he determined to
act on the theory that the boat had turned, and not that the wind had
changed. The latter idea seemed impossible. The wind was the chill,
damp fog wind--the sou-wester. Convinced of this, Tom turned the boat,
and felt satisfied that he had resumed his true course.

After a time the wind went down, and the sail flapped idly against the
mast. Tom was in a fever of impatience, but could do nothing. He felt
himself to be once more at the mercy of the tides.