upon Ham Rock; and the raft has one advantage even
over the reef, for it is capable of motion."

"Yes, Andre," replied, "as long as the wind continues favourable the
raft has decidedly the advantage; but supposing the wind shifts, what
then?"

"Oh, we mustn't think about that," he said; "let us keep up our courage
while we can."

I felt that he was right, and that the dangers we had escaped should
make us more hopeful for the future; and I think that nearly all of us
are inclined to share his opinion.

Whether the captain is equally sanguine I am unable to say. He holds
himself very much aloof, and as he evidently feels that he has the great
responsibility of saving other lives than his own, we are reluctant to
disturb his silent meditations.

Such of the crew as are not on watch spend the greater portion of their
time in dozing on the fore part of the raft. The aft, by the captain's
orders, has been reserved for the use of us passengers, and by erecting
some uprights we have contrived to make a sort of tent, which affords
some shelter from the burning sun. On the whole our bill of health is
tolerably satisfactory. Lieutenant Walter is the only invalid, and he,
in spite of all our careful nursing, seems to get weaker every day.

Andre Letourneur is the life of our party, and I have never appreciated
the young man so well. His originality of perception makes his
conversation both lively and entertaining and as he talks, his wan
and suffering countenance lights up with an intelligent animation. His
father seems to become more devoted to him than ever, and I have seen
him sit for an hour at a time, with his hand resting on his son's,
listening eagerly to his every word.

Miss Herbey occasionally joins in our conversation, but although we all
do our best to make her forget that she has lost those who should have
been her natural protectors, M. Letourneur is the only one amongst us to
whom she speaks without a certain reserve. To him, whose age gives him
something of the authority of a father, she has told the history of her
life--a life of patience and self-denial such as not unfrequently falls
to the lot of orphans. She had been, she said, two years with Mrs.
Kear, and although now left alone in the world, homeless and without
resources, hope for the future does not fail her. The young lady's
modest deportment and energy of character command the respect of all
on board, and I do not think that even the coarsest of