s he had fully considered it in his own mind, the sailor, aided
by Snowball and Little William, proceeded to rig the _Catamaran_, and by
the close of the third day from the commencement of their labours a tall
mast stood up out of the centre of that curious craft, midships between
stem and stern, with boom and guy, and a broad sail hanging loosely
along its yard,--ready to be spread to the first breath of wind that
might blow westward over the ocean.

The breeze which had brought Ben and little William back among the
wreck-drift of the slave-bark, leading to a renewal of intercourse with
their old shipmate, Snowball, had been blowing in the contrary direction
to that in which the sailor intended to steer. This breeze, however,
was not such as was to be looked for in that latitude. It was only a
mere puff,--a cat's-paw,--in the midst of the calm that had continued
for many days after the destruction of the slaver. It had lulled again
on the same night in which the rafts had become united; and ever
since,--during the three days they had been at work in the construction
of the _Catamaran_,--the calm had continued without intermission.

On the fourth day things remained the same,--not a breath stirring from
any quarter to ruffle the glassy surface of the sea; which, like a
mirror, reflected the odd image of the _Catamaran_, with her six
hogsheads set like bulwarks around her sides, and her stout mast
tapering tall and solitary out of her midst.

Neither her captain,--Ben Brace of course,--nor those of her crew who
were capable of reflecting on the future, and providing for its probable
contingencies, regretted this inaction,--forced upon them by the
continuance of the calm. Indeed, although becalmed, the "Catamarans"
were not inactive. There was work worthy of their activity, and which
occupied them during the whole of the day. By the aid of oars,--several
of which were fortunately in their possession,--they kept the new craft
in constant motion; quartering the square mile of sea-surface, upon
which floated the fragments of the ill-fated _Pandora_.

Many a waif did they pick up, and stow away on their new craft against
the contingency of some future need.

Among other "floating fragments" Ben chanced upon his own sea-chest;
which secured him a change of linen,--to say nothing of a full suit of
"Sunday go-ashores" and variety of knick-knacks likely to prove of
service on the problematical voyage he proposed making.