n, for the chairs."

At each corner of this extemporised raft Jackman fastened one of the
cabin chairs, pointing out, as he did so, that there was no limit to the
extension of the raft.

"You see," he continued, "all you would have to do, if the ship were
properly fitted out, would be to add chair to chair, bench to bench,
cork mattress to mattress, until your raft was as big as you wanted; or
you could make two or three rafts, if preferable."

"But sure, sor, it would be an unstiddy machine intirely, an' given to
wobblin'," said Quin, who was one of those privileged men who not only
work for their wages, but generously throw their opinions into the
bargain.

"It would not be more unsteady than the waves, Quin; and as to wobbling,
that would be an advantage, for a rigid raft in a rough sea would be
more liable to be damaged than one that was pliable."

The discussion about rafts and ship's boats which thus began was
continued with much interest till lunchtime, for it chanced that John
Barret was one of those men whose tendency of heart and mind is to turn
everything to its best uses, and generally to strive after the highest
point of perfection in everything, with a view to the advancement of
human felicity. This tendency called into exercise his inventive
faculties, inducing him to search after improvements of all
descriptions. Thus it was natural that he and Jackman should enter into
a keen controversy, as to what was the best method of constructing the
raft in detail; and that, when the faithful Quin announced lunch as
being, "riddy, sor," the life-saving machine was left in an incomplete
state on the deck.

The interest attaching to this discussion had helped the three comrades
and crew alike, to tide over what might otherwise have proved a tedious
forenoon, for during the whole of that day the dense fog and profound
calm continued.

On returning to the deck the discussion was continued for a time, but
gradually the interest flagged, then other subjects engaged attention,
and the raft was finally allowed to lie undisturbed and forgotten.

"I don't know how it is," said Bob Mabberly; "but somehow I always feel
a depression of spirits in a fog at sea."

"Explanation simple enough," returned Jackman; "are we not constantly
reading in the papers of ships being run down in fogs? Where there is
risk there is always in some minds anxiety--in your case you call it
depression of spirits."

"Your explanation,