Our voyage, as I was saying, had hitherto been prosperous; but a gale came on, and we were exposed to the very dangers the missionary had so well described to me.  We could do nothing except help to bail out the canoe, for the natives understood how to manage her much better than we did; and, with all our civilisation and nautical knowledge, we had to confess that in that respect they were our superiors.  The canoe laboured fearfully, and often I thought that she must founder.  How anxiously we looked out for some sign that the gale was abating, but in vain.  Had we been in our own ship, we should certainly have thought very little of the gale; but in this frail canoe we had ample reason to dread its consequences.  At length the wind shifted, and drove us on in what the islanders considered our proper course.  We ran on for some days without seeing land, and then the gale blew over and left us becalmed under a burning sun.  We had carefully from the first husbanded our water, having the advantage of the previous experience of our companions.  As it was, we had barely sufficient to quench the constant thirst produced by the heat.  Every day, too, seemed to increase our thirst and to diminish our stock of the precious fluid.  Our hope had been to fall in with some vessel which might either supply us or give us a course to the nearest island where we might obtain it.  One forenoon, when we had been suffering even more than usual, the chief declared that he saw a vessel on our weather bow, and that she would cross our course. With intense eagerness and hope we all looked out for her.  As her sails rose out of the water, we saw that she was a schooner.  If we could but get on board her, we thought that we might again in time rejoin the _Triton_.  We were very certain that Captain Frankland would not cease to look for us while a chance remained of our being discovered.  Gradually we neared the schooner.  I saw Cousin Silas and Ben Yool looking at her with great earnestness.