“All to be suppressed.”

“So it appears,” said Jack; “men are to be carried about from place to place like flocks of sheep; perhaps they will invent steam dogs as well to run after stragglers, and bring them into the fold by the calf of the leg.  Your new mode of going a-pleasuring may be a very excellent thing in its way, Willis; but it would not suit my taste.”

“Probably not; nor mine either, for the matter of that, Master Jack.”

“At all events,” said Fritz, “you would run no danger of being upset on the road.”

“No; but, by way of compensation, you may be blown up.”

“True, I forgot that.”

“This conversation has carried us along another knot,” said Jack, opening the log, which he had been appointed to keep; “and now, by your leave, I will read over some of my entries to refresh your memories as to our proceedings.

“March 9th.—­Wind fair and fresh—­steered to north-west—­a flock of seals under our lee bow—­feel rather squeamish.

“10th.—­No wind—­fall in with a largish island and four little ones, give them the name of Willis’s Archipelago.

“11th.—­A dead calm—­sea smooth as a mirror—­all of us dull and sleepy.

“12th.—­Heat 90 deg.—­shot a boobie, roasted and ate him, rather fishy—­passed the night amongst some reefs.

“13th.—­Same as the 12th, but no boobie.

“14th.—­Same as the 13th.

“Dreadfully tiresome, is it not,” said Jack; “no wonder they call this ocean the Pacific.”

“Alas!” sighed Willis, thinking of the Nelson, “it does not always justify the name.”

“15th.—­Hailed a low island, surrounded with breakers, named it Sophia’s Island.”

“But all these islands have been named half a dozen times already,” said Willis.

“Oh, never mind that, another name or two will not break their backs.”

“16th.—­Current bearing us rapidly to westward—­caught a sea cow, and had it converted into pemican.

“17th.—­Shot another boobie, which we put in the pot to remind us that we were no worse off than the subjects of Henry IV.  No wind—­sea blazing like a furnace.”

“You will have to turn over a new leaf in your log by-and-by,” said Willis, “or I am very much mistaken.”

“Well, I hope you are not mistaken, Willis, for I am tired of this sort of thing.”

A red haze now began to shroud the sun, the heat of the air became almost stifling, but the muffled roar of distant thunder and bright flashes of light warned the voyagers to prepare for a change.  Willis reefed the canvas close to the mast, and suggested that everything likely to spoil should be put under hatches.  This was scarcely done before the storm had reached them, and they were soon in the midst of a tropical deluge.  At first, a light breeze sprung up, blowing towards the south-east, which continued till midnight, when it chopped round.  Towards