CHAPTER XIII.
FRIENDS ARE MET WITH, ALSO PIRATES, AND A LIFE-OR-DEATH PADDLE ENSUES.
In physics, as in morals, a storm is frequently the precursor of a dead calm.
Much to the monkey's joy, to say nothing of the men, the sun erelong asserted its equatorial power, and, clearing away the clouds, allowed the celestial blue to smile on the turmoil below.

The first result of that smile was that the wind retired to its secret chambers, leaving the ships of men to flap their idle sails.

Then the ocean ceased to fume, though its agitated bosom still continued for some time to heave.
Gradually the swell went down and soon the unruffled surface reflected a dimpling smile to the sky.
When this happy stage had been reached our voyagers lowered and stowed the canoe-sails, and continued to advance under paddles.
"We get along wonderfully fast, Van der Kemp," said Nigel, while resting after a pretty long spell; "but it seems to me, nevertheless, that we shall take a considerable time to reach Borneo at this rate, seeing that it must be over two hundred miles away, and if we have much bad weather or contrary wind, we shan't be able to reach it for weeks--if at all." "I have been thrown somewhat out of my reckoning," returned the hermit, "by having to fly from the party on the islet, where I meant to remain till a steamer, owned by a friend of mine, should pass and pick us up, canoe and all.

The steamer is a short-voyage craft, and usually so punctual that I can count on it to a day.

But it may have passed us in the gale.