To his delight the patent wheel worked perfectly. Occasionally, it is
true, Bill was compelled to stop the engine and, leaning over the
stern, clear it of the few weeds that clung to it with a boat-hook he
had brought for the purpose, but otherwise it answered every claim of
its makers, that it could not be checked by even the densest tangle.

As the sun set and darkness closed in, Bill noticed, to his
gratification, that the weed seemed to be thinning out and that the
water-lanes grew more and more frequent.

He made a hasty meal off the provisions he had brought with him and,
after a long period spent in trying to keep his eyes open, he was fain
to lie down on the bottom of the launch and, with the engine shutoff,
drift through the blackness till daylight. He awoke with a start. The
launch was tossing about wildly and an occasional shower of spray flew
over her side.

She had cleared the Sargasso and was in the open sea at last.

Bill started up the engine as soon as he got the sleep out of his
eyes, and tossing the spume from her bow the little craft fairly
leaped through the tumbling waters. But Bill soon saw that if she was
to handle in such a sea he would have to reduce speed or risk getting
swamped. He therefore throttled down the engine and rigged a tarpaulin
over the bow to keep out the wave crests, part of which came tumbling
aboard.

"If it freshens I don't stand much of a chance to get out alive,"
mused the sailor, as he sat in the stern of his cockle-shell, with