"Do you think, Tom, that we had better try to get up a sort of sail
and make for land, or remain where we are?"

"Remain where we are, Peter, I should say. I suppose we must be a
hundred miles from the French coast, and even if the wind blew fair
we should be a long time getting there, and with the certainty of a
prison when we arrived. Still, if there were a strong west wind, I
suppose it would be our best way; as it is we have nothing to do but
to wait quietly, and hope for a ship. We are in the right line, and
there must be lots of vessels on their way, besides those which sailed
with us, for Portsmouth. So we must keep watch and watch. Now, Peter,
you lie down on that plank, it is just about long enough, you shall
have two hours' sleep, and then I'll have two, after that we will have
four hours each."

"How are we to count time?" Peter said laughing.

"I never thought of that," Tom said, looking at his watch. "Of course
it has stopped. We must guess as near as we can; at any rate, you go
to sleep first, and, when I am too sleepy to keep watch any longer, I
will wake you up."

So passed that day and the next night. A light breeze sprung up from
the southwest, and the sun again shone out brightly.

"I feel as if I wanted breakfast horribly," Peter said, with an
attempt at a smile. "Do you think that there is any possibility of
catching anything?"