It was dry in the bow; a blanket
protected her from the wind, and, weary with the events of the last few
days, she seemed to rest as securely on this wave-rocked couch as a
child in its cradle. The youth, uncertain whether she slept or not,
forbore to disturb her. Hours went by.
As the night wore on a few stars came out in a discouraged kind of way.
Heretofore he had been steering by the wind; now, that scanty
peripatetic band, adrift on celestial highways, assisted him in keeping
his course. When one sleepy-eyed planet went in, another, not far away
(from the human scope of survey) came out, and Francois, with the
perspicacity of a follower of the sea, seemed to have learned how to
gage direction by a visual game of hide-and-seek with the pin-points of
infinitude. Between watching the stars, the sea and the sail, he found
absorbing occupation for mind and muscle. Sometimes, in the water's
depressions, a lull would catch them, then when the wind boomed again
over the tops of the crests, slapping fiercely the canvas, a brief
period of hazard had to be met. The boat, like a delicate live creature,
needed a fine as well as a firm hand.
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