on toward the
south. Enough, at least, to keep hope alive. But suppose that I had used
those capricious gusts of wind to sail away to the westward, into some
region where there was not a breath of air for days on end, what then?
Perhaps my appalling vision of a ship floating with a dead crew
would become a reality for the discovery weeks afterward by some
horror-stricken mariners.

That afternoon Ransome brought me up a cup of tea, and while waiting
there, tray in hand, he remarked in the exactly right tone of sympathy:

"You are holding out well, sir."

"Yes," I said. "You and I seem to have been forgotten."

"Forgotten, sir?"

"Yes, by the fever-devil who has got on board this ship," I said.

Ransome gave me one of his attractive, intelligent, quick glances and
went away with the tray. It occurred to me that I had been talking
somewhat in Mr. Burns' manner. It annoyed me. Yet often in darker
moments I forgot myself into an attitude toward our troubles more fit
for a contest against a living enemy.

Yes. The fever-devil had not laid his hand yet either on Ransome or on
me. But he might at any time. It was one of those thoughts one had
to fight down, keep at arm's length at any cost. It was unbearable to
contemplate the possibility of Ransome, the housekeeper of the ship,
being laid low. And what would happen to my command if I got knocked
over, with Mr. Burns too weak to stand without holding on to his
bed-place and the second mate reduced to a state of permanent
imbecility? It was impossible to imagine, or rather, it was only too
easy to imagine.

I was alone on the poop. The ship having no steerage way, I had sent the
helmsman away to sit down or lie down somewhere in the shade. The men's
strength was so reduced that all unnecessary calls on it had to be
avoided. It was the austere Gambril with the grizzly beard. He went away
readily enough, but he was so weakened by repeated bouts of fever,
poor fellow, that in order to get down the poop ladder he had to turn
sideways and hang on with both hands to the brass rail. It was just
simply heart-breaking to watch. Yet he was neither very much worse nor
much better than most of the half-dozen miserable victims I could muster
up on deck.

It was a terribly lifeless afternoon. For several days in succession low
clouds had appeared in the distance, white masses with dark convolutions
resting on the water, motionless, almost solid, and yet all the time
changing thei