And after consultation with a signal boy, who came aft to read the patent log, we found that we were heading for that island.
The wind was dead ahead and blowing fresh and cool, but the sun was hot, and the boatswain's mates were instructed to keep the men in the shade as much as possible.
The stress and strain of the night before made the few hours of "caulking off," that we now enjoyed, particularly grateful.
We lay so thick on the windward side of the spar deck under the awning, that it would have been difficult to find foot room.
Every hour a signal boy came running aft to read the log, which was attached to the taffrail on the starboard quarter.

The log worked on the same principal as a bicycle cyclometer.

It had two dials that indicated the miles and fractions of miles as they were reeled off.

A long, braided line, having what we called a "twister" attached, trailed behind in the water and made the wheels go round, a certain number of revolutions to the mile.
Hour after hour the ship rushed through the water.

The engines throbbed in a regular, settled sort of way, that reminded one of a man snoring.
The wind blew softly and caressingly.