ht of
the dreaded bank.

For two days the same weather continued. Some of the people began to
lose heart.

Owen did his best to cheer them up. "Depend upon it we shall have clear
skies and a smooth sea before long; we shall then run along famously,
and make up for lost time," he observed.

Mr Scoones kept up his character as a good seaman. For hours together
he sat at the helm, and only gave it up to Bill Pratt, who was the next
best hand to him. At last, as Owen had predicted, the wind fell, and
the sea went down. Once more the boat was put on her course to the
eastward. During the day they steered by the sun, and at night by the
stars, which shone forth with great brilliancy. Although Owen had often
gazed before at the Southern Cross and the other beautiful
constellations of that hemisphere, he now watched them with greater
interest than ever. With the fine weather the spirits of the party
rose. Owen proposed that each man should recount his adventures, tell a
story, or sing a song. His proposal was adopted; it served to beguile
the time, and prevented the men from thinking of the dangers which might
be in store for them. Mr Scoones did not interfere. He sat silent and
gloomy, as usual. He might possibly have reflected that it was through
his own obstinacy that the ship had been cast away, and the lives of so
many of her crew sacrificed. Fishing lines were also constantly kept
out, and several fish were caught. The only means of cooking them was
on a fire of chips on the lid of the fish-kettle. They proved a
valuable addition to their fare, and assisted, with the dried fruit
which had been saved, in warding off scurvy. The wind was, however,
very light, and but slow progress was made. At length it became
perfectly calm.

Mr Scoones immediately ordered the men to get out the oars. Owen set
the example, and Nat and Mike obeyed, but the others grumbled, asserting
that the advantage to be gained was so slight that it was not worth
while to exert themselves.

Mr Scoones became very angry, and standing up with the tiller in his
hand, declared that he would knock the first man overboard who refused
to obey his orders.

"You'd better not try it," answered the carpenter's mate, a
powerful-looking man, seizing the hammer which lay near him. "Having
three or four hundred miles to sail, as I understand, we can do little
good in tiring ourselves out by pulling along at the rate of two knots
an hour in