s, that, as our passage
homewards was not by land, further delay was unadvisable.

Dolefully we set our sail, and made for Boston Harbor. We began to
feel the reaction which always follows a season of extreme joviality,
and our spirits were down. Our chief wit, Tom B----, who had before
kept us in a perpetual roar all the way, sat moody and desponding, and
answered gruffly every question put to him; speaking only when spoken
to, and then in monosyllables rarely used in polite circles. Our
_other_ joker, second only to Tom, the above named, having amused us
during the whole day by long yarns spun out from a varied experience
and a rich imagination, betook himself to slumber, and tried to dream
that he was safe home again. The rest of us performed our duties about
the boat in gloomy silence, looking occasionally with some anxiety at
the clouds gathering slowly over our heads, but keeping our opinions
within our own breasts. I had no apprehension of danger, for nothing
indicated a gale; in fact, the breeze was gradually deserting us. All
that was to be feared was a calm, steady rain, which, visiting us at a
distance of several miles from home, and late at night, promised any
thing but an agreeable conclusion to our day's excursion. At last it
came. First, a heavy drop, then a few more, and then a regular,
straight, old-fashioned pour.

Our sail hung motionless, and we seemed to stand still and take
it. Our companions were soon roused from their abstraction by the very
unpleasant circumstances, and we hastily took counsel together.

"Unship the mast," says Tom, "and over with your oars."

We obeyed our captain sulkily, and soon were moving on again. We
pulled away for an hour or so, drenched with the rain, which seemed to
come down faster than ever, and were about as miserable and down-cast
a pack of wretches as ever lived; for there is nothing like a good
ducking (to use the common expression) to take the life and spirit out
of a man, not to mention the other discomforts that attended our
situation.

Silently we rowed, and not a sound was heard above the plashing of the
rain upon the surface of the sea, and the regular stroke of the oars.

"It's very strange that we don't reach old Point Shirley," says Tom,
who had been on the look out for this landmark during the last
half-hour.

"Very strange," said we, and pulled away as before.

Thus passed another half-hour in silent, ceaseless occupation, when,
from the mer