d spring up, and we should meet
with a ship; but in his heart I think he had no hope.

The day crawled on, afternoon came, and I fell into a troubled sleep.
The pain of my throat directed my wandering thoughts perhaps, and
conjured up horrible visions. I was lashed to the wheel of the
_Aguila_, and the schooner went drifting, drifting far away into an
unknown sea. All was still around me, though I was not alone. Sailors
walked the deck or huddled in the forecastle--sailors with skin of
wrinkled parchment, with deep-set, burning yet unseeing eyes, with
moving lips from which no sound came; and as we sailed away ever
further and further into the darkness, the horror of it maddened me. I
struggled desperately to free myself, calling aloud to Jose to save me.
Then a hand was laid softly on my forehead, and a kind, familiar voice
whispered,--

"Jack! Jack! Wake up. You are dreaming!" Opening my eyes I saw Jose
bending over me, his face stricken with fear. My head burned, but my
face and limbs were wet as if I had just come from the sea. "Get up,"
said Jose sharply, "and walk about with me. You must not dream again."

It seems that in my sleep I had screamed aloud; but the sailors took no
notice of me either then or afterwards. They had troubles enough of
their own, and were totally indifferent to those of others.

The red tinge had now gone from the haze, leaving it cold and gray; the
sea was dull and lifeless, no ripple breaking the stillness of its
surface.

"Is there any hope, Jose?" I asked in a whisper, and from his face,
though not from his speech, learned there was none.

The captain had stored two bottles of liquor in the cabin for his own
use. These he shared amongst us; but it was fiery stuff, and even at
the first increased rather than allayed our thirst. Most of the crew
were lying down now; but one had climbed to the roof of the forecastle,
and stood there singing in a weak, quavering voice. Jose spoke to him
soothingly; but he only laughed, and continued his weird song. His
face haunted me; even when darkness closed like a pall around us I
could still see it. He sang on and on in the gloom, and it appeared to
me that he was wailing our death-chant. Presently there was silence,
followed by a slight shuffling sound as the man moved to another part
of the deck; then the song began again, and was followed by a burst of
uncanny laughter. Suddenly it seemed as if the poor fellow realized
his