The drooping royals began to flutter and then to fill, the topgallant-sails soon imitated that effort, and the hull once more answered its helm.
The heavy topsails and lower courses soon filled out. The hands were called to the braces, and with yards braced sharp up to an increasing breeze, the 'Silver Crown' drew away from those windless regions surrounding the equator.
Within one week she had made such progress that the temperature fell considerably, and refreshing sleep could be once more enjoyed by all.
But about that time Jack Clewlin fell into temporary disgrace with the chief officer.
Throughout the first portion of the voyage its many attractions kept the lad fully alive to the charm of sea experiences, and what with that and the miseries of the 'middle passage' he found it impossible to obtain the proper amount of sleep.
Now all that inconvenience had disappeared. The nights were becoming delightfully cooler, and tired Nature, determined to make up all arrears of sleep, cast on Jack her soothing and irresistible influence.
He battled stoutly against it while on duty, and in semi-wakefulness paced the deck until sudden collision with the bulwarks, or the saloon door, almost sent him to the deck.
Indeed, that duty of night watching proved almost insurmountable. On the occasion to which reference has been made, it fell to his lot to keep the bells going from ten o'clock till midnight.
For a while all went well.
At eight bells Mr. Sennit, the chief officer, was called. He never took more than three minutes to relieve the deck, and on doing so he invariably looked at the clock in the saloon skylight. This night he acted as usual, and immediately became angry.