Going on deck again, I felt much more comfortable; but the spirits that had warmed my vitals soon had an effect upon me that I had not counted upon.  My eyesight became hazy, and I felt terribly sleepy—­so sleepy that I could not remain at the helm for fear of falling into a slumber at my post.  So I tied up the tiller, and, for the rest of the night, walked the deck, only altering the schooner’s course when I thought that she was being driven too far from the spot where the boat had put off.

All the night through I peered over the dark sea, and at intervals raised my voice, in the faint hope of coming across the boat.  But for all the lookout that I kept, never a boat could I see; and for all my shouting, never a response to my cries could I hear.  Whatever had become of the skipper—­whether he had been picked up or was drowned—­the mate and Jerry were gone, and I, the youngest of the crew, was left alone on the Falcon to bring her back to port, if haply I was not taken by her across the dreary waste of ocean to some terrible and unknown destiny.

Chapter XXXI.  An Arctic Waif.

When the dim light of dawn fell upon the sea I looked over the gray waters through the telescope.  The mist had faded away, and the snow had ceased to fall.  A fresh breeze from the low east brought a faint glimmer of sunshine with it.  But though I searched the horizon, and the wide intervening space of sea, yet could I discover nothing of the boat, and Fair Isle was nowhere to be seen.

Looking for that island—­which I knew to be the nearest land—­I remembered the islanders and thought how little chance there now remained of the Falcon rendering them assistance in their need of provisions.  I saw no possibility of reaching Fair Isle; for, as I had seen it on the previous day, it appeared but a small rock; and being out of all my reckoning, and, as I supposed, a considerable distance to leeward, I did not think it wise to waste much time in the vain effort to reach the island, the exact position of which I was ignorant of.  I might have beat about for two or three days, perhaps, without sighting it, and yet I knew not what other land to make for.

The wind, which was now blowing east-southeast, was unfavourable in an attempt to make for the Orkneys.  The only alternative that I could see, therefore, was to head the schooner round on the port tack and bear northward to the Shetlands.

I went below to look at the chart to determine my position and the course I should take; and, to prepare myself for difficulties I foresaw, I lighted a fire and made myself some coffee and cooked some bacon for breakfast.  When I had eaten a good meal and warmed myself, a drowsiness came over me again, and I threw myself on the skipper’s bed to rest for a little while.

I must have slept very soundly; for when I awoke the fire was out, and I saw by the chronometer that it was nearly eleven o’clock.  But my sleep had done me great good, and I hurried on deck and looked round.