In saying this, however, it is not to be supposed that the signs, as to time, were very apparent anywhere.  Lava, known to have been ejected from the bowels of the earth thousands of years, has just as fresh an appearance, to the ordinary observer, as that which was thrown out ten years ago; and, had it not been for the deposits of moist mud, the remains of fish, sea-weed that was still undecayed, pools of salt water, and a few other peculiarities of the same sort, Mark would have been puzzled to find any difference between the rocks recently thrown up, and those which were formerly exposed to the air.  Even the mud was fast changing its appearance, cracking and drying under the sun of the tropics.  In a month or two, should as much rain as usual fall, it was probable the sea-weed would be far gone in decay.

It was still early when our adventurer kneeled on the sand, near his boat, to hold his last direct communication with his Creator, ere he slept.  Those communications were now quite frequent with Mark, it being no unusual thing for him to hold them when sailing in his boat, on the deck of the ship, or in the soft salubrious air of the Summit.  He slept none the less soundly for having commended his soul to God, asking support against temptations, and forgiveness for past sins.  These prayers were usually very short.  More than half the time they were expressed in the compendious and beautiful words given to man by Christ himself, the model and substance of all petitions of this nature.  But the words were devoutly uttered, the heart keeping even pace with them, and the soul fully submitting to their influence.

Mark arose, next morning, two hours before the light appeared, and at once left the group.  Time, was now important to him; for, while he anticipated the possibility of remaining under the lee of the mountain during the succeeding night, he also anticipated the possibility of being compelled to return.  In a favourable time, with the wind a little free, five knots in the hour was about the maximum of the boat’s rate of sailing, though it was affected by the greater or less height of the sea that was on.  When the waves ran heavily, the Bridget’s low sails got becalmed in the troughs, and she consequently lost much of her way.  On the whole, however, five knots might be set down as her average speed, under the pressure of the ordinary trades, and with whole canvas, and a little off the wind.  Close-hauled, she scarcely made more than three; while, with the wind on the quarter, she often went seven, especially in smooth water.

The course steered was about a point to the westward of south, the boat running altogether by compass, for the first two hours.  At the end of that time day returned and the dark, frowning Peak itself became visible.  The sun had no sooner risen, than Mark felt satisfied with his boat’s performance.  Objects began to come out of the mass of the mountain, which no longer appeared a pile of dark outline, without