During the night we were all silent; but, when the sun rose in the east, flooding the sea with the rosy tint of dawn, hope came back to us and our tongues were unloosed—the more especially as the force of the waves had considerably lessened, hardly a scrap of spray being now washed over us, while the blows of the billows against the side of the ship were no longer heard.
The sea really was calming down at last.
God was watching over us!
“Say, captain,” said Mr Marline, who was the first to bestir himself, “do you think there’s any prospect of our righting the ship?”
The captain was asleep, I believe, for the first mate had to repeat his question twice before he could get an answer.
“I’m sure I hope so,” at last sleepily muttered Captain Miles, with a portentous yawn—“only wait till the swell calms down and we’ll see about it.”
“But it is calm now,” rejoined the other.
“Then wake me again when it is calmer,” replied Captain Miles; and then, he turned on his side and proceeded with his nap as coolly as if he were comfortably tucked up in his nice swinging cot in the cabin.
“Well!” exclaimed Mr Marline, “of all the cool, self-possessed men I ever met in my life, you beat the lot!”
He was talking to himself, but the hands heard him, and there was a general snigger all round, the captain’s very composure having given confidence to all. The men believed that he would not have taken things so quietly unless he had some sure hope of our speedy release from such a precarious position.