, and
bleeding. Yes, there was the edge of a cloud, distinct enough, the
white, clean-cut, sharp-edged upper portion of a big thunder cloud,
unless I was greatly mistaken. And it was rising fast, too, so fast
that, even as I stood gazing at it, it fully doubled its area and
permitted us a glimpse of the soft, slaty-blue tint merging into the
white.

"Yes," I agreed, replying to Parsons' question, "the change is coming
all right, and it will not be very long before it is here. Lay in your
oars, men. I think, in prospect of what that cloud promises, that we
may venture to spare ourselves any further ash-flourishing to-day, for
we shall have a breeze before very long, with thunder, lightning, and
rain as well, unless I am greatly mistaken. And we will pipe to supper
at once, so that we may be able to get our meal in peace and quietness,
and have it over and done with before the breeze comes. We are likely
enough to have plenty of other matters than eating and drinking to think
about and attend to when that happens."

The oars were laid in, willingly enough, for the other four were in just
as bad a plight as I was. Cunningham, indeed, was far worse, for,
unlike ours, his hands were soft and tender, and when, after the oars
had been laid in, he stretched out his hands, palms upwards, and showed
them to me, they presented a positively sickening sight. But when I
murmured my regret and commiseration he only smiled and expressed the
conviction that they would be all right again in a week, for he was one
of the pluckiest men I ever met, grit all through, straight as a die,
and with not a bad spot anywhere in him; he was, in fact, everything
that we are apt to think a typical Briton should be.

We lost no time in getting the meal that we called by courtesy "supper";
and within half an hour had disposed of it, and were waiting patiently
for whatever was to come. But while it was still calm and light I had
the mast stepped, and sent the sailmaker aloft to take a good,
comprehensive look round and see whether he could discover any sign of a
sail; and no sooner had he, with much pain and tribulation, climbed to
the top of his precarious perch than he sang out that he could just see,
in the northern board, what looked like the heads of a ship's royals.
Of course he could not tell in which direction she was bound, for, like
ourselves, she was becalmed, and slowly "boxing the compass," that is to
say, her head was pointing f