Willis rose abruptly, whistling "the Mariner's March," and went to join Fritz, who was steering the pinnace.
At this naïve mark of disapprobation on the part of the Pilot, Becker, Ernest, and Jack burst involuntarily into a violent peal of laughter.
"Laugh away, laugh away." said Willis; "I will not admit your calculations for all that."
The sky had now assumed an opal or azure tint, the wind had gradually died away into a gentle breeze, the waves were now swelling gently and regularly, like the movements of the infant's cradle that is being rocked asleep. Never had a day, opening in the convulsions of a tempest, more suddenly lapsed into sunshine and smiles: it was like the fairies of Perrault's Tales, who, at first wrapped in sorry rags, begging and borne down with age, throw off their chrysalis and appear sparkling with youth, gaiety, and beauty, their wallet converted into a basket of flowers, and their crutch to a magic wand.
"Father" inquired Fritz, "shall we go any farther?"
Since the weather had calmed down, and there was no longer any necessity for exertion, the expedition had lost its charm for the young man.
"I think it is useless; what say you, Willis?"
"Ah," said the latter, taking Becker by the hand, "in consideration of the eight days' friendship that connects you even more intimately with Captain Littlestone than my affection for him of twenty years' standing, keep still a few miles to the east."
"If the sloop has been driven to a distance by the storm, and is returning towards us, which is very likely, I do not see that we can be of much use."
"But if dismasted and leaky?"