ctly suited
our unhappy condition. The wind, too, as though satisfied with its
night's work, sank to rest, while by degrees the tossing of the angry
billows subsided into a peaceful ripple.

We looked at each other and at the schooner. One man had been washed
overboard; another, struck by a falling spar, still lay insensible; the
rest were weary and exhausted. Thanks to the skipper's foresight, the
_Aguila_ had suffered less than we had expected, and he exclaimed
cheerfully that the damage could soon be repaired. But though our good
ship remained sound, the storm had wrought a fearful calamity, which
dazed the bravest, and blanched every face among us.

The skipper brought the news when he joined us at breakfast, and his
lips could scarcely frame the words.

"The water-casks are stove in," he exclaimed, "and we have hardly a
gallon of fresh water aboard!"

"Then we must run for the nearest port," said Jose, trying to speak
cheerily.

The captain spread out his hands dramatically.

"There is no port," he replied, in something of a hopeless tone, "and
there is no wind. The schooner lies like a log on the water."

We went on deck, forgetting past dangers in the more terrifying one
before us. The captain had spoken truly: not a breath of air stirred,
and the sea lay beneath us like a sheet of glass. The dark clouds had
rolled away, and though the sun was not visible, the thin haze between
us and the sky was tinged blood-red. It was such a sight as no man on
board had seen, and the sailors gazed at it in awestruck silence.

Hour after hour through the livelong day the _Aguila_ lay motionless,
as if held by some invisible cable. No ripple broke the glassy
surface, no breath of wind fanned the idle sails, and the air we
breathed was hot and stifling, as if proceeding from a furnace.

The men lounged about listlessly, unable to forget their distress even
in sleep. The captain scanned the horizon eagerly, looking in vain for
the tiniest cloud that might promise a break-up of the hideous weather.
Jose and I lay under an awning, though this was no protection from the
stifling atmosphere.

Every one hoped that evening would bring relief, that a breeze might
spring up, or that we might have a downpour of rain. Evening came, but
the situation was unchanged, and a great fear entered our hearts. How
long could we live like this--how long before death would release us
from our misery? for misery it was now in dow