But this was of no avail as it
happened, for all the rest of that day I saw not another sail.
The next night was spent in weariness on deck, with a cold rain
falling. I managed to keep awake without much difficulty, for I did
not take any more spirits, but had a can of hot coffee beside me at
the tiller, and went below several times to keep the fire alight
and the kettle on the boil. At about midnight I saw a ship's light
to windward, but it soon dropped below the horizon. It showed me
that I was still on the sea track between Orkney and Shetland, and
I kept a sharp lookout towards morning for the Sumburgh light.
Day broke with a haze over the water and a cloudy sky. The wind
shifted to the northeast, bringing snow. At midday the wind was due
north, and several inches of snow lay on the schooner's deck. I
boiled some potatoes for my dinner, and thought that I had
something to be thankful for in having a good store of provisions
on board. I was beginning to think that I should need them, for I
had not yet sighted the land.
Again the night came, and still I had seen no more sails. I had
seen no land. The rays of the Sumburgh light never reached the poor
Falcon. I felt that I was drifting to westward, being carried away
in the grip of one of those mysterious ocean currents that are the
terror of the northern latitudes.
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