Fatigued as he was, he could not go to sleep. The novelty of his situation, and the guilt, now that the excitement was over, which oppressed his conscience, banished that rest his exhausted frame required. He heard the village clock strike two and three; and then he rose, unable to endure the reproaches of his own heart.
"What a fool I am!" he exclaimed to himself; and a flood of tears came to his relief. "To desert my warm bed, my happy home, the friendship of my club, for such a set of fellows as this! O, how I wish I had not come!"
Leaving the cabin, he seated himself in the stern sheets of the boat. The bright stars had disappeared, and the sky was veiled in deep black clouds. The wind blew very fresh from the north-east, and he was certain that a severe storm was approaching. He wept bitterly when he thought of the gloomy prospect.
He had repented his folly, and would have given the world to get away from the island. Ah, a lucky thought! He could escape! The Rovers were all asleep; the fresh breeze would soon drive the Sylph to the land, and he could return home, and perhaps not be missed. It was an easy thing; and without further reflection, he unfastened the cable, and dropped it overboard.
The Sylph immediately commenced drifting away from the island. Taking the helm, he put her before the wind, and was gratified to observe that she made very good headway.
The clock struck four, and he heard the footsteps of the watch upon the shore.
"Boat adrift!" shouted Ben, who was the officer of the watch.
The words were repeated several times, and in a few moments he heard Tim's voice summoning his crew. Then the Butterfly dashed down upon him, and his hopes died within him. But he had the presence of mind to crawl back again to the cabin; and when Tim came onboard, he had the appearance of being sound asleep, so that the chief did not suspect his treachery.