NOVEMBER 24 to December 1.—Here we were then once more at sea, and although on board a ship of which the stability was very questionable¹, we had hopes, if the wind continued favorable, of reaching the coast of Guiana in the course of a few days.  
Our way was southwest and consequently with the wind, and although Curtis would not crowd on all sail lest the extra speed should have a tendency to spring the leak afresh, the Chancellor² made a progress that was quite satisfactory. Life on board began to fall back into its former routine; the feeling of insecurity and the consciousness that we were merely retracing³ our path doing much, however, to destroy the animated⁴ intercourse⁵ that would otherwise go on between passenger and passenger.
 
The first few days passed without any incident worth recording⁶, then on the 29th, the wind shifted to the north, and it became necessary to brace⁷ the yards, trim the sails, and take a starboard tack⁸. This made the ship lurch⁹ very much on one side, and as Curtis felt that she was laboring¹¹ far too heavily, he clewed up the top-gallants, prudently¹² reckoning that, under the circumstances, caution was far more important than speed.
 
The night came on dark and foggy. The breeze freshened considerably¹³, and, unfortunately for us, hailed from the northwest. Although we carried no topsails at all, the ship seemed to heel over more than ever. Most of the passengers had retired¹⁴ to their cabins, but all the crew remained on deck, while Curtis never quitted his post upon the poop.
 
Toward two o'clock in the morning I was myself preparing to go to my cabin, when Burke, one of the sailors who had been down into the hold, came on deck with the cry:
 
"Two feet of water below."
 
In an instant Curtis and the boatswain had descended¹⁵ the ladder. The startling news was only too true; the sea-water was entering the hold, but whether the leak had sprung afresh, or whether the caulking¹⁶ in some of the seams was insufficient<............