falling light at any moment?"

I don't know if this satisfied my father: but I know that he meant it
to satisfy me, which it was pretty far from doing. Before daylight
the boats hoisted sail again, and were well under the Islands and out
of sight by breakfast-time.

After this, for a whole long week I reckon I did little more than
pace the ship to and fro; a fisherman's walk, as they say--three
steps and overboard. I took the three steps and wished I was
overboard. My father watched me queerly all the while; but we said
no word to each other, not even at meals.

It was the eighth day after the fishing-boats left us, and about four
in the afternoon, that we saw a brown sail standing towards us from
the Islands, and my father set down the glass, resting it on the
gunwale, and said:

"That's Old John's boat."

I took the glass from him, and was putting it to my eye; but had to
set it down and turn my back. I couldn't wait there with my eye on
the boat; so I crossed to the other side of the ship and stood
staring at the Lighthouse away on the sky-line, and whispered:
"Come quickly!" But the wind had moved a couple of points to the
east and then fallen very light, and the boat must creep towards us
close-hauled. After a long while my father spoke again:

"That will be Old John steerin' her. I reckoned so: he've got her
jib shakin'--that's it: sail her close till she strikes the