Percy's body drooped over the bails. Though the position was horribly uncomfortable, he had all he could do to prevent himself from going to sleep, even despite the occasional screeches of the whistle. With an immense effort he stiffened himself upright. Jim was gazing down into the water.
"It's going to moderate before long," he remarked, casually.
Percy came wide awake in an instant.
"How can you tell? It's blowing as hard as ever."
"I know that. But the tide doesn't run so strong against the buoy. Just as it always makes up before the wind comes, so it begins to go down before the wind lessens. I believe the gale'll blow itself out by the middle of the forenoon."
The news seemed too good to be true; but it dispelled Percy's drowsiness. He pried his eyes open and stared around.
The waves were still running high and breaking in fiery sparkles. The silver sharks unwearyingly kept their silent vigil about the rocking buoy. Up the eastern horizon was stealing a faint pallor, harbinger of the approaching dawn.
Lighter and lighter it grew. The gulls, which had been floating on the water all night, began to take wing and fill the air with their grating cries. The phosphorescence died out of the sea. Another day had begun.
Raising his right hand, Spurling turned its open palm toward the north.
"What did I tell you?" he exclaimed. "The wind is going down."