She thanked him, but said it would be useless for her to lie down; she should not be able to sleep.
“You have eaten nothing all day,” said the General; “you must not allow your strength to fail you. Pray try to eat a little biscuit.”
Holdsworth handed her a biscuit, and she broke a piece of it off and appeared to munch it; but in the darkness they could not tell how little she ate.
No sign was to be seen of the other boats, although once Holdsworth imagined he heard a voice halloing a long way to windward. The boat’s head was now pointing east-north-east; but she lay close to the wind and made scarcely more than four knots an hour. The jump of the sea deadened her way materially; but this jump decreased as the night wore on, for the waves grew longer, with steadier intermissions. At twelve o’clock, Holdsworth, who was worn out by his long spell at the helm, called to Johnson to awaken Winyard. Up jumped the seaman from the bottom of the boat and came aft. Holdsworth gave him the yoke-lines, and bidding Johnson lie down and get some rest, seated himself on the lee-side of the mast and scanned the sea to right and left of him. The old General had fallen asleep right along the thwart on which he sat, his face buried in his arm. The boy slept soundly in his mother’s arms, but whether she slumbered or not, Holdsworth could not tell. Once Mr. St. Aubyn started up as from a nightmare, muttered some broken sentences, and was silent again.
“Keep her close,” said Holdsworth to Winyard, “and watch the seas.”
“You had best take some rest, sir. I can handle the boat whilst you’re down.”
“No. I’ll wait until Johnson has had his nap.”
So passed two hours.
It was drawing near half-past two in the morning when Winyard called, in a loud whisper: