wind, which rarely happened, unless it might be from six
months to six months, without being the precursor of some sort of a
storm. Mark was still two miles from the Reef, and the little wind there
was soon came ahead. Luckily, it was smooth water, and very little air
sufficed to force that light craft ahead, while there was usually a
current setting from that point towards the crater. The birds, moreover,
seemed uneasy, the air being filled with them, thousands flying over the
boat, around which they wheeled, screaming and apparently terrified. At
first Mark ascribed this unusual behaviour of his feathered neighbours
to the circumstance of their now seeing a boat for the commencement of
such an acquaintance; but, recollecting how often he had passed their
haunts, in the dingui, when they would hardly get out of the way, he
soon felt certain there must be another reason for this singular
conduct.

The sun went down in a bank of lurid fire, and the Bridget was still a
mile from the ship. A new apprehension now came over our hermit. Should
a tempest bring the wind violently from the westward, as was very likely
to be the case under actual circumstances, he might be driven out to
sea, and, did the little craft resist the waves, forced so far off as to
make him lose the Reef altogether. Then it was that Mark deeply felt how
much had been left him, by casting his lot on that beautiful and
luxuriant crater, instead of reducing him to those dregs of misery which
so many shipwrecked mariners are compelled to swallow! How much, or how
many of the blessings that he enjoyed on the Reef, would he not have
been willing to part with, that evening, in order to secure a safe
arrival at the side of the Rancocus! By the utmost care to profit by
every puff of air, and by handling the boat with the greatest skill,
this happy result was obtained, however, without any sacrifice.

About nine o'clock, and not sooner, the boat was well secured, and Mark
went into his cabin. Here he knelt and returned thanks to God, for his
safe return to a place that was getting to be as precious to him as the
love of life could render it. After this, tired with his day's work, the
young man got into his berth and endeavoured to sleep.

The fatigue of the day, notwithstanding the invigorating freshness of
the breeze, acted as an anodyne, and our young man soon forgot his
adventures and his boat, in profound slumbers. It was many hours ere
Mark awoke, and when