As I stood out of the cabin hatch, however, there was enough breeze to flutter a piece of paper that had been caught in the mainsail halyard; it fluttered there lonely in the morning. Nothing else was astir but it and I, and I took it up in my hand, idly. As I did so, George reared his head for'ard—
"Morning, George," I said; "I guess we've got to run on gasolene to-day. No wind in sight—so far as I can see."
"That's right, sar," said George, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Presently, he came to me in his big hulking way, and said:
"There ain't no gasolene, sir—"
"No gasolene?" I exclaimed.
"It's run out in the night."
"The tanks were filled when we started, weren't they?" I asked.
"Yes, sir."
"We can't have used them up so soon...."
"No sir,—but some one has turned the cocks...."