me, and now he is himself again."

I was not quite right, though. Rough as he looked, he was born with a
tender heart; but habit, example, and independent command, and long
unconstrained temper, made him appear the fierce savage man I often
thought him. A large quantity of our water and provisions, and stores
of all sorts, were thrown overboard, as was everything that was not
absolutely necessary, to lighten the boat as much as possible. Yet, do
all we could, there appeared to be a great probability that we should
never manage to reach the shore. The water had also somehow or other
worked its way between the canvas at the joints in the fore and after
parts of the boat, in addition to the seas which came in over the
gunwale. To assist in keeping it out we stuffed everything soft we
could find, bits of blanket, our shirt-sleeves and handkerchiefs, into
the holes in the planks, though of course but little good was thus
effected. In vain we looked round on every side, in the hope that our
eyes might rest on some object to give us cause for hope. Darker and
more threatening grew the sky, louder roared the wind, and higher and
higher rose the seas. Scarcely half an hour more remained before
darkness would come down on us. With no slight difficulty the boat had
been kept steadily before the seas with the advantage of daylight; at
night, with the sea still higher, we could scarcely expect that she
could be kept clear. It was indeed with little hope of ever again
seeing it rise that we watched the sun sinking towards the western
horizon.

CHAPTER THREE.

VOYAGE IN THE BOAT CONTINUED--GALE BLOWING STRONG--A SAIL IN SIGHT--WILL
SHE PASS US?--A FRENCH BRIG--LIFE ON BOARD--REACH SMYRNA--SAILORS'
FRIENDSHIP--OUR PRANKS ON SHORE--THE PLAGUE--CHARLEY'S FEARS--SENT ON
BOARD THE FATE--ONCE MORE AFLOAT--HOMEWARD-BOUND.

A look of blank, sullen despair was stealing over the countenances of
most of the crew. Charley Iffley sat with his hands before him and his
head bent down, without saying a word, and seemingly totally unconscious
of what was taking place. When I spoke to him he did not answer or look
up. I suppose that he was thinking of his father, and grieving for his
loss, so, after two or three trials, I did not again attempt to rouse
him up. La Motte and I occasionally exchanged remarks; but when the
wind again got up and we expected every moment that the boat would
founder, we felt too much afraid and too wretc