h us, Mr Brooke, so you'll have to make the best of
it."

"I always try to make the best of things," replied Charlie. "My chief
regret at present is that Raywood and I, being two extra hands, will
help to consume your provisions too fast."

"Luckily my appetite is a poor one," said Raywood, with a faint smile;
"and it's not likely to improve in the circumstances."

"I'm not so sure o' that sir," returned the mate, with an air that was
meant to be reassuring; "fresh air and exposure have effected wonders
before now in the matter of health--so they say. Another pull on the
halyards, Dick; that looks like a fresh squall. Mind your sheets, Will
Ward."

A prompt "Ay, ay, sir" from Dick Darvall and the cabin-boy showed that
each was alive to the importance of the duty required of him, while the
other men--of whom there were six--busied themselves in making the
tarpaulin coverings more secure, or in baling out the water which, in
spite of them, had found its way into the boat.

Charlie rose and seated himself on the thwart beside the fine-looking
seaman Dick Darvall, so as to have a clearer view ahead under the sail.

"Long-boat nowhere to be seen now," he murmured half to himself after a
long look.

"No, sir--nor the other boat either," said Darvall in a quiet voice.
"We shall never see 'em no more."

"I hope you are wrong," returned Charlie; "indeed I feel sure that the
weather will clear during the night, and that we shall find both boats
becalmed not far off."

"Maybe so, sir," rejoined the sailor, in the tone of one willing to be,
but not yet, convinced.

Our hero was right as to the first, but not as to the second, point.
The weather did clear during the night, but when the sun arose next
morning on a comparatively calm sea neither of the other boats was to be
seen. In fact every object that could arrest the eye had vanished from
the scene, leaving only a great circular shield of blue, of which their
tiny craft formed the centre.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

ADRIFT ON THE SEA.

"You are ill, Will Ward," was Dick Darvall's first remark when there was
sufficient daylight to distinguish faces.

"You're another!" was the cabin-boy's quick, facetious retort, which
caused Darvall to smile and had the effect of rousing the half-sleeping
crew.

"But you _are_ ill, my boy," repeated the seaman earnestly.

"No, Dick, not exactly ill," returned Will, with a faint smile, "but I'm
queer."

Each man had spent that