into the
succeeding night. Then the weather became unsettled and thundery, with
light baffling airs interspersed with fierce squalls from all quarters
of the compass, during which we made scarcely sixty miles in the
twenty-four hours.

It was about midnight of the third day after we had lost sight of the
barque, and the seventy-two hours that Ryan had allowed himself in which
to find her again were fully spent, without affording us another glimpse
of her. All hands, from Ryan himself down to the smallest boy in the
ship, were dreadfully disgusted and crestfallen at our want of success;
and we were only waiting for a breeze to spring up from somewhere to
enable us to shape a course back to our cruising ground. The weather,
however, was still very overcast and lowering, with signs not wanting
that another heavy thunderstorm was brewing, which would probably bring
us the desired breeze. There was not much swell running, but
sufficient, nevertheless, to tumble the schooner about a good deal; and
I had accordingly taken it upon myself to clew up, haul down, and furl
every stitch of canvas, in order to save the sails from battering
themselves to rags. The thunder had been gradually working up ever
since sunset, and in fact even before that, and when eight bells struck
at midnight, and my watch below came round, the weather had such a
curious and portentous look, and the atmosphere was moreover so close
and heavy, that I determined to stretch myself out "all standing" on the
stern grating instead of going below, so that I might be all ready in
case my presence should be required.

It was shortly after two bells when Pierrepoint came and roused me out
with the remark--

"I am sorry to disturb you, Dugdale, but I think it is going to rain
very shortly, and if you remain there you stand a very good chance of
getting soaked to the skin. And what do you think of the weather? Is
it merely a thunder-squall that has been brewing all this time, or what
is it? Just look at those clouds overhead, their edges look quite red,
as though there was a fire somewhere behind them. Do you think I should
call the captain?"

It was as he had said. The sky was banked up from horizon to zenith,
all round, with enormous cloud-piles, black as ink in the body of them,
but their fringes or edges, which had a curiously tattered appearance,
were of a distinct fiery red hue. All this time there was not a breath
of wind save what was created