Sandie soon came to the conclusion, that what he saw around him did not belong to the realms of dreamland, but to those of stern reality.
He could not tell what dangers or difficulties were yet to be encountered, but he had the most perfect confidence in the skill and ability of that white-haired old skipper to do whatever was for the best. And he had, moreover, faith and trust in God, who rules all, and who can hold the ocean in the palm of His hand.
Tyro, the collie, had entered into relations of the most friendly character with the young red tabby cat, and the two were romping together on the quarter-deck, as if there was no such thing as death or danger in the universe.
The course now steered was as nearly nor’-west as possible.
Captain D’Acre really entertained some hopes that he might meet some homeward bound steamer, or be overtaken by one that was outward bound.
But one never knows how vast the ocean is until he is sailing on its heaving breast. Ay, and you may sail for weeks in an ocean highway, and never meet or see a ship, only the great silent wondrous world of waters, for ever moving and heaving around you.
. . . . . .
With varying fortunes as to wind and weather, the sadly-stricken barque, Peaceful, sailed on and on and on.
It was now very warm on deck, not to say broiling hot. The pitch boiled in the vessel’s seams, and Tyro’s bonnie white paws were sadly soiled and blackened. The sun all day blazed in a sky of lightest blue, only down along the horizon, great rock-looking clouds were banked up, behind which every night summer lightning gleamed incessant.
It was about three bells in the morning watch one night, but still inky dark, when the first mate, lamp in hand, entered the captain’s cabin, and touched him on the shoulder.