Night came on with the breeze freshening, and the top-gallant-sail was furled. The Josephine then had all she could carry, for Mr. Fluxion was not a fair-weather sailor, and always crowded on all the vessel would stagger under. The wind was more to the eastward than when the schooner left Brest, which still kept it fair. At eight bells in the evening, the first part of the starboard watch took the deck; and the night wore away without any exciting incident to break the monotony. Peaks and Cleats were thorough seamen, and being in authority, they compelled every seaman to do his duty.
The sea was rough in the Bay of Biscay, and the Josephine, though she made good weather of it, was rather wet on deck. But she was making a splendid voyage so far. On the forenoon of the second day out, Perth and Herman, having the watch below, had another discussion in regard to the probable length of the cruise. The vessel was still headed away from Brest; and even if she put about then, it might take her two or three days to work back to the port where they had left the ship. The prospect was decidedly sickening. The Josephine was far out of sight of land, and still headed south-west by west. The officers were as taciturn as on the previous day, so far as the destination of the vessel was concerned, though they were very considerate in every other respect. There was nothing to do after the decks had been washed down in the morning. The wind was a little lighter, and, in addition to the top-gallant-sail, the fore square-sail was set, so that her speed was at no time less than ten knots, and most of the time it was twelve.
"What do you make of it now, Little?" said Ibbotson, just before noon on the second day out. "Do you think we shall get back to Brest in a day or two?"
"Of course we shall."
"Bah! What's the use of talking? We couldn't beat back to Brest now in three days."
"Perhaps we shall make some other port in France," suggested Little, with a sickly smile.
"What! steering south-west by west? Not much! I tell you we are homeward bound."
"Nonsense! Not unless we are going by the way of Cape Horn, Behring's Straits, and the North-west Passage! Keep cool, Ibbotson; we shall come out right yet."
"But we are sold. Lowington has the weather-gage of us, and we are beaten at our own game."
"Not yet."