There is not a breath of wind, and scarcely any swell, and her slight, regular rocking is hardly perceptible.
Then my thoughts turn to the merchantman, which was only a mile and a half off, on our bow, when I came below.

If the schooner continued her course towards her, she must be almost alongside now.

We certainly cannot be lying more than one or two cables' length from her.

The three-master, which was becalmed at sundown, could not have gone west.
She must be close by, and if the night is clear, I shall be able to see her through the porthole.
It occurs to me, that perhaps a chance of escape presents itself.

Why should I not attempt it, since no hope of being restored to liberty is held out to me?
It is true I cannot swim, but if I seize a life buoy and jump overboard, I may be able to reach the ship, if I am not observed by the watch on deck.
I must quit my cabin and go up by the forward hatchway.