"Anything new?" he asked Purvis, who was now at the tiller.
"Nothing whatever. The governor has not rung his bell. The wind is just as it was, neither better nor worse, and the brigantine is eight miles ahead of us."
George went forward to have a look at her.
"I think I had better wake him," he said to himself. "He will have had nine hours of it, and he won't like it if I don't let him know that it is daylight. I will get two or three fresh limes squeezed, and then go in to him."
This time Frank opened his eyes as he entered.
"Morning is breaking, Major, and everything is as it was. I hope that you are feeling better for your sleep. Let me help you up. Here is a tumbler of fresh lime juice."
"I feel right enough, George. I can scarcely believe that it is morning. How I have slept—and I fancied that I should not have gone off at all."
Drinking off the lime juice, Frank at once followed Lechmere on deck, and after a word or two with Purvis hurried forward.
"She is a long way ahead," he said, with a tone of disappointment.
"The mate reckoned it between seven and eight miles, Major."