We aboard ship, though, preserved the regular ways of sea-folk; and beyond myself and Tim Rooney, who remained behind on the forecastle, to keep me company more than to act as look-out, I believe, not a soul was to be seen on the upper deck of the Silver Queen during this last half- hour of the first dog-watch, now just expiring.

No, not a soul. For Mr Saunders, the second mate, with Matthews and the other apprentices had started aft to their quarters the moment the anchor had been dropped and all things made snug forwards; Mr Mackay had disappeared from the poop, having taken our river pilot down into the cuddy for a glass of grog prior to his departure for the shore to make his way back by land to the docks he had started from, unless he could pick up a job of another vessel going up, and so "combine business with pleasure," as Sam Weeks remarked to Matthews with a snigger, as if he had said something extremely funny; while Adams and the other two sailors, the remaining hands we had aboard, had likewise proceeded towards the cuddy by the boatswain's advice to try and wheedle the steward Pedro into giving them some tea, there not being as yet any cook in the ship to look after the messing arrangements of the crew, so that they were all adrift in this respect, having no proper provision made for them.

Then, all was still inboard and out; nothing occurring, until, presently, the same boy I had noticed before, and who I found was helping the steward stowing provisions in the after-hold beneath the saloon, came out from under the break of the poop at six o'clock to strike the ship's bell, or "make it four bells," nautically speaking, in the same way as he had done previously.

I think I can hear the sound now as I heard it that calm evening when we were anchored off Gravesend. The "cling-clang, cling-clang!" of our tocsin, tolling and telling the hour, being echoed by the "pong-pang, pong-pang!" of the merchantman lying near us, and that again answered a second or so later by the "ting-ting, ting-ting!" of the other vessel further away, the different tones lingering on the air and seeming to me like the old church bells of Westham summoning the laggards of the congregation to prayers. Father wasn't an extreme high churchman, or otherwise I would have said vespers!

After sunset, it grew colder, the wind coming from the eastwards up the open reach of the river; and so, what with my wet things and standing so long on the forecastle I began to shiver. The boatswain noticed this on the sound of the ship's bell waking him up from a little nap into which he had nearly fallen when things became quiet and I ceased to talk.

"Bedad ye're tremblin' all over, loike a shaved monkey wid the ag'ey, sure," he said as he yawned and stretched himself, rising from his seat on the knightheads, where he was supposed to be keeping a strict look- out in the absence of the other men from forward. "Why the dickens don't ye go into the cuddy aft an' warrum y'rsilf, an' dhry y'r wit clothes be the stowve there, youngster?"

"I was just thinking of it," I replied.

"Ye'd betther do it, that's betther nor thinkin'," he retorted; "or ilse ye'll be catching a cowld an' gittin' them nasty screwmatics as makes me howl av a winther sometimes."

As Tim spoke, I heard a splashing noise in the distance, with the rattling sound of oars moving in the rowlocks; and, looking over the bows to the left, I noticed a large boat rowing rapidly up to us from the direction of Gravesend.

This boat, as it got nearer, seemed to be crammed full of men, its gunwale being quite down to the water's edge with the weight of its human cargo.

In an instant, the thought flashed through my mind, ridiculous though it was, that the ship was about to be boarded by pirates, my reading for some time past, and especially during the last week or so when I was assured of going to sea, having been mainly confined to stories of nautical adventure, in which such gentry generally played a prominent part.

"Look, look, Mr Rooney!" I cried stopping my shivering and feeling all aglow with excitement. "Don't you see that boat there coming towards us to capture the ship?"

"Arrah, don't make a fool av y'rsilf, Misther Gray-ham," he answered, laughing and taking the matter quite coolly. "It's ownly goin' to that Yankee astern av us; but the tide bein' on the ebb, in course, they've got to make foorther up the strame towards this vessel, so as to fetch their own craft handsomely—d'ye see?"

He was mistaken, however, for the boat approached closer and closer to us, so that the occupants could be clearly distinguished; and, just as it came alongside, a man in the stern-sheets, who had been steering, stood up, still holding the yokelines, and hailed the ship.

"Silver Queen, ahoy!"

"Begorra, it's the skipper!" ejaculated Tim, recognising the voice at once; and he then shouted out in a louder tone: "Aye, aye, Cap'en Gillespie, it's the owld barquy, sure enough. Stand by, an' I'll haive ye a rhope in a brace av shakes!"

The quiet that had reigned on board now vanished; and all was bustle and activity, the captain's loud hail having been heard by others besides the boatswain.

Almost before he had time to pitch the promised rope to the bowman of the boat so that it could drop down with the stream under the ship's counter, Mr Mackay and the pilot appeared again on the poop; while the others came out on to the main-deck, ready to receive the new-comers in seaman-like fashion, the second mate and Matthews taking up a position just amidships, abaft of the main-chains, where the side-ladder was fixed, acting as a sort of guard of honour as it were.

First to appear on board, holding on to the side lines which the second mate had thrown over within his reach, and stepping up the narrow and slippery ladder cleats as if he were ascending a comfortable staircase, only pausing an instant on the edge of the gunwale of the bulwarks before jumping down on the deck, was a tall spare man with a thin face and high cheekbones, a long pointed nose being also a most prominent feature. He had very scanty whiskers, too, and this seemed to make his face look thinner and his nose longer, so that the latter resembled a bird's beak.

This was Captain Gillespie, as I quickly learnt from the way Mr Saunders and Matthews addressed him; Mr Mackay, meanwhile, giving him a cordial salutation from the head of the poop, his proper place as the officer in command, until his superior took the reins in his own hand, which as yet the captain did not offer to do.

"I hardly expected you so soon, sir," said Mr Mackay, leaning over the rail. "We brought up earlier than I thought we should, the tide fetching us down in capital time."

"Aye, but I was on the look-out for ye, Mackay, for I told you I'd be aboard almost as you anchored; and, you know, when I say a thing I mean a thing."

"Hear that now?" said Tim the boatswain to me in a loud whisper, he having come down from the forecastle after heaving a rope over to those in the boat, and I following him to where the others were standing on the deck. "Ye'll soon know owld Jock's ways. We allers calls him 'Sayin's an' Maynins'; for that's what he's allars a-sayin'!"

While the captain was exchanging greetings with the mates and Matthews, my other two fellow apprentices being nowhere to be seen, another thin man followed him up the side-ladder from the boat, who, wearing a thick monkey-jacket, looked a trifle less lean than Captain Gillespie; and to him succeeded a shoal of sailors, nineteen clambering in on board after him.

Tim Rooney did not notice these much, only telling me that the one who came immediately in the captain's wake was the "say," or channel pilot, who would con the ship for the remainder of her course down the river and to the Downs beyond; and I may add that this individual was the only thin pilot I have ever seen!

Rooney also said that the batch of men brought to complete our crew seemed "a tidy lot;" but when the last man stepped down from the bulwarks, he seemed a little more impressed, not to say excited.

"Bedad," he exclaimed sotto voce to me, "I'm blissid if the skipper ar'n't picked up that Chinee cook we'd aboard two v'y'ges agone, owld Ching Wang! There's his ugly yalle'r face now toorned this way foreninst you, Misther Gray-ham. Begorra hee don't look a day oulder, if a troifle uglier since I sayed him last!"

"And is he a Chinaman?" I asked, full of curiosity; "a real, live Chinaman from the East?"

"Be jabers he is, ivery inch av him from his blissid ould pigtail, tied up with a siezin' of ropeyarn, down to his rum wooden brogues an' all, the craythur!" replied Tim, stretching out his big hairy fist to the other, who had advanced on seeing him and stopped just abreast, his saffron-coloured face puckered up into a sort of wrinkled smile of pleasure at meeting an old shipmate like the boatswain, who said in his hearty way: "Hallo, ye ould son av a gun! Who'd a-thought av sayin' ye ag'in in the ould barquey, Ching Wang? Glad ye're a-comin' with us, an' hopes ye're all roight!"

"Chin-chin, Mass' Looney," answered the Chinee, putting his monkey-like paw into Tim's broad palm and shaking hands cordially in English fashion. "Me belly well, muchee sank you. Me fetchee chow-chow number one chop when you wauchee."

"Aye, that's roight, me joker; if ye say that I gits me groob whin I wants it, we'll be A1 friends an' have no squalls atwane us," said my friend the boatswain as the Chinaman passed along the deck to the forward deck-house, entering the galley as if he knew the way well, Tim adding as he got out of hearing: "The ig'rant haythin, he nivir can spake me name roight; allers callin' me 'looney,' jist as if I wor a blissid omahdawn loike himsilf!"

Meanwhile, the other men who had come on board, most of whom were fine strapping fellows, as if Captain Gillespie had selected them carefully, scrambled past us to their quarters in the forecastle, the boatswain scanning them keenly with his sharp seaman's eye as they went by, and commenting on their appearance; some being sturdy and having decent chests of clothes, which they lugged after them, while others looked lean and half starved, carrying their few belongings in bags, which showed that they had little or nothing beyond what they stood up in, and were but ill provided for the long voyage we were about to take.

Tim shook his head at these latter.

"Begorra, thay're as lane as Job's toorkey, an' that wor all skin an' faythers," he muttered. "Thay'll pick up, though, whin they gits out to say an' has a good bit av salt joonk insoide av 'em, instid av the poor livin' thay've hid av late."

As soon as the men had all disappeared under the forecastle, leaving room for us to pass along the deck, the boatswain stepped up to the captain to present himself; and I followed his example.

"Hi, Rooney, man," said Captain Gillespie accosting Tim, "I'm glad you haven't deserted us; though I knew it before, for I heard your voice answering my hail."

"No, cap'en, I'll niver desart the ould ship so long's ye're the skipper," replied Tim. "It's goin' on foive years now since we've sailed togither."

"Aye, close on that; and I hope we'll sail together for five years more, man, for I don't wish a better bosun," responded the other pleasantly. "But, who's that you've got in tow?"

"Misther Gray-ham, sorr," said Tim, shoving me more in front as I took off my cap and bowed.

"Our new apprentice," explained Mr Mackay from the top of the poop ladder as he caught sight of me. "He came aboard just before we left the docks."

"Ah, I thought I didn't see him this morning," observed the captain. And turning to me he said: "I've read a very good letter the owners got about you, youngster, and if you only do your duty and obey orders I'll try to make a sailor out of you, and we'll get on very well together; but, mind you, if you try any tricks with me, you'll find me a scorcher."

"Oh, I think he'll turn out all right," put in Mr Mackay as I blushed and stood before the old fellow not knowing what to say, he looked so stern at me when he spoke. "I've had a chat with him already, and I think he's got the right stuff in him."

"Has he?" returned the captain. "That's got to be proved by and by. All boys promise well at first, but generally end badly! However, I only want him to understand me at the start, and know that when I say a thing I mean a thing, and stick to it, too. Where are the other 'prentices?"

"I told them they might turn in, as there was nothing else for them to do," replied the first mate, excusing them; "they were hard at it all day getting the cargo in, and helping to warp out of dock."

"H'm," muttered the captain, as if he did not like the idea of anyone having a rest off while he was about; and he compressed his lips while his long nose seemed to grow longer. "H'm!"

"What do you think of doing sir?" inquired Mr Mackay in the middle of this awkward pause, by way of changing the conversation. "The wind looks as if it was going to hold from the east'ard."

"Aye, so I think, too," assented Captain Gillespie, looking more amiable as his mind was recalled to action. "It's just the wind we want for going down Channel; and the sooner we take advantage of it, the better. What say you pilot?"

"I'm agreeable," replied the thin man alongside him in the monkey- jacket, who was giving some parting message to the one in the oilskin as he went down the side-ladder to take a passage back to Gravesend in the shoreboat that had brought his comrade off. "I think we'd better lose no time but tow on at once to the Downs."

"Just what I wish," said Captain Gillespie springing up the poop ladder and taking his place by the side of Mr Mackay; and, as the shoreboat pushed off with its now solitary passenger and only one waterman to pull, he shouted out, "Hands, up anchor!"

"Aye, aye, sorr," responded the boatswain, who, expecting the order, had already gone forwards to rouse out the men before they had stowed themselves into their bunks, quickly followed by Mr Saunders the second mate, who also anticipated what was coming; and the next moment I could hear Tim's shrill whistle and his hoarse call, which seemed an echo of the captain's, albeit in even a louder key, "A-all hands up anchor!"

Mr Mackay now hailed the tug, which had been standing by still with her steam up, awaiting our summons, and she steered up alongside shortly; so, while our portion of the crew manned the windlass, hauling in the cable with a chorus and the clink-clanking noise of the chain as the pauls gripped, another set of hands busied themselves in getting in the towing-hawser from the Arrow, and fastening it a second time around our bollards forward.

"Hove short, sir!" soon sang out the second mate from his station on the knightheads, when the anchor was up and down under our forefoot. "It'll show in a minute!"

"All right," answered Captain Gillespie from aft, "bring it home!"

More clink-clanking ensued from the windlass; and, then, as the vessel's head slewed round with the tide, showing that she was released from the ground, Mr Saunders shouted, "Anchor's now in sight, sir!"

"Heave ahead!" the captain roared in answer to the master of the tug; and, a second or two later, we were under weigh and proceeding once more down the river, Captain Gillespie calling to the second mate that he might "cat and fish" the anchor if he liked, as he did not intend to bring up again, but to make sail as soon as the tug cast off in the morning. Adding, as Mr Saunders turned away to give the order for manning the catfalls: "And you'd better see to your side-lights at once, for fear of accidents."

Mindful of my previous experiences on the forecastle, I now kept away from this part of the vessel, especially now that it was crowded with the additional hands that had come on board; and after remaining for some little time near the deck-house, I went up on the poop after the new pilot, who as soon as we were moving took up a similar position on the weather side as his predecessor had done, proceeding likewise to con the ship in the same manner.

The evening was rapidly drawing in; and the big red and green lanterns, which I noticed were placed presently in the fore-chains on the port and starboard sides respectively, began to shoot out their party-coloured gleams across the surface of the water, stretching out to meet the bright twinkling lights ashore on either hand, which multiplied fourfold as the darkness grew.

Adams was not at the wheel now, one of the fresh hands having taken his place. But I did not mind this man being a stranger, nor did I feel so lonesome and anxious for someone to speak to as was the case earlier in the day; for Captain Gillespie having taken command of the ship, Mr Mackay the first mate was a free man, and he came and talked to me, explaining things very kindly as we pursued our way onward, the tide still with us and adding considerably to the rate we were being towed by the little Arrow, which had red and green side-lights like ours and a bright clear white one at the masthead as well, to show to other craft that she was a steamer under weigh, so that they might avoid fouling in the fairway.

An hour or so after starting from Gravesend, we passed a bright red beacon, which Mr Mackay told me was the light marking the Mucking Flat; and, later on yet, glided by the one on Chapman Head, getting abreast of the light at the head of Southend Pier on our left at ten o'clock, or "four bells" in the first watch—soon after which, the revolving light of the Nore lightship was sighted, like a single-eyed Cyclops, staring at us in the distance one moment and eclipsed the next.

The moon now rose, putting all these artificial lights to shame as it flooded the stream with its silver sheen; but I got so sleepy with the night air after all my excitement through the day, besides being thoroughly exhausted from standing so long on my legs, that, as Mr Mackay was pointing out something in connection with Sheerness and the Isle of Sheppey, and a light house on top of a church—I'm sure I can't recollect what it was all about—I made a stumble forward and nearly fell on my face on the deck, dead beat.

"Poor little chap, you're tired out," said the first mate sympathisingly, putting his arm round me and holding me up; "and when a fellow's tired out, the best thing he can do is to turn in!"

"Eh, sir," said I sleepily. "Turn where?"

"Turn in, my boy," he replied laughing. "Go to roost, I mean. To bed— if you understand that better."

"But where shall I go, sir?" I asked, catching his meaning at last.

"Come along and I'll soon show you," he answered, taking me down the poop ladder to the after-deckhouse, and hailing the steward to show a light: "There!"

It was a little narrow box of a cabin with four bunks in it, two on one side running athwart the deck and two fore and aft. The ends of these crossed each other, and they looked exactly like shelves in a cupboard; while, to add to the effect and trench on the already limited space of this apartment, the floor was blocked up by two other sea-chests besides my own, and a lot of loose clothes and other things strewn about.

The two bottom bunks were already occupied, Jerrold and Sam Weeks snoring away respectively in them; and one of the two upper ones was filled with what looked like a collection of odds and ends and crockery ware.—This was the situation.

What was I to do?

I looked at Mr Mackay appealingly.

"Well, Graham," he said in answer to my look, "you must make the best of a bad job. These two fellows have turned in first, so, as you're the last comer you've only got Dobson's choice in the matter of bunks—that top one there, which seems a little less crowded than the other, or nothing."

"I'm so weary," I replied, "I can sleep anywhere. I don't mind."

"Then, in you go," cried he, giving me a hoist up, while he covered me over with a blanket which he pulled off young Weeks, that worthy having with his customary smartness appropriated mine as well as his own. "Are you all right now?"

"Yes—th-ank you," I answered, closing my eyes; "g-ood night, sir."

"Good night, my boy."

"Goo-goo-oo-ah!" I murmured drowsily, falling asleep in the middle both of a yawn and of my sentence, only to wake again the next moment—it seemed to me—from a horrible dream, in which I was assailed by a crowd of savages, who were dancing round me with terrible cries and just going to make an end of me, for they were pulling and hauling away at me and shaking me to pieces!

And, strange to say, my first waking impression appeared to confirm the story of my dream; for there really was an awful noise going on all round and a yellow tawny face was bending over me looking into mine, all the yellower from the bright sunlight that streamed through the open door of the cabin fall upon it, while the owner of the face was shaking me and calling out close to my ear in a strange dialect, "Hi, lilly pijjin, rousee and bittee!"



CHAPTER SIX.

THE STARLING.

Rubbing my eyes and then opening them to the full, wide awake at last, I at once recollected where I was, and who was speaking to me as he shook me.

It was Ching Wang, the Chinese cook, smiling all over his round yellow face, and holding out a tin pannikin with something steaming in it, that sent forth a fragrant smell which made my mouth water.

"Hi me wakee can do," he said in his broken pigeon English, although from having been several voyages he spoke more intelligibly than the majority of his countrymen, "Mass' Looney me axee lookee after lilly pijjin, and so me fetchee piecee coffee number one chop. You wanchee— hey?"

"Thank you," I cried gratefully, drinking the nice hot coffee, which seemed delicious though there was no milk in it. Then, forgetting I was in the top bunk, I sprang off the mattress on which I had been lying, falling further than I thought, it being quite six feet to the deck below; and, knocking down the good-natured Chinaman, with whom I tumbled over amongst the things scattered about the floor and landed finally outside the door of the deck-house in a heap, rolled up with him in the blanket I had clutched as I fell!

Fortunately, however, neither of us was injured by this little scrimmage, which somehow or other seemed to smooth over the awkwardness of our making acquaintance, both of us grinning over the affair as a piece of good fun.

"Chin-chin, lilly pijjin," said my new friend, as he picked himself up from the deck and made his way back to his galley with the empty pannikin, whose contents I was glad to have swallowed before jumping out of the bunk, or else it would have been spilt in another fashion. "When you wanchee chow-chow you comee Ching Wang and he givee you first chop."

"Thank you," I replied again, not knowing then what he meant by his term "chow-chow," although I fancied he intended something kind, and probably of an edible nature, as he was the cook. But all thoughts of him and his intentions were quickly banished from my mind the moment I looked around me, and saw and heard all the bustle going on in the ship; for, men were racing here and there, and ropes were being thrown down with heavy bangs, the captain and Mr Mackay both on the poop were yelling out queer orders that I couldn't understand, and Mr Saunders and the boatswain on the forecastle were also shouting back equally strange answers, while, to add to the effect, blocks were creaking and canvas flapping aloft, and groups of sailors everywhere were hauling and pulling as if their lives depended on every tug they gave.

It was broad daylight and more; the sun having, unlike me, been up long since, it being after eight o'clock and a bright beautiful morning, with every prospect of fine weather before us for the run down the Channel.

We had come through the Bullock Channel, emerging from the estuary of the Thames ahead of the North Foreland, which proudly raised its head away on our starboard bow, the sun shining on its bare scarp and picking out every detail with photographic distinctness. Further off in the distance, on our port quarter, lay the French coast hazily outlined against the clear blue sky, from which the early mists of dawn that had at first hung over the water had withdrawn their veil, the fresh nor'- easterly breeze sweeping them away seaward with the last of the ebb. The tide was just on the turn, and the dead low water showed up the sandbanks at the river's mouth.

The little tug Arrow was right ahead; but she had eased her paddles and stopped towing us, preparatory to casting off her hawser and leaving the Silver Queen to her own devices. The good ship on her part seemed nothing loth to this; for, those on board were bustling about as fast as they could to make sail, so that they might actually start on their voyage—all the preliminary work of towing down the river by the aid of the tug being only so much child's play, so to speak, having nothing to do with the proper business of the gallant vessel.

And here I suddenly became confronted with one of the discomforts of board-ship life, which contrasted vividly with the conveniences to which I had been accustomed at home ever since childhood.

Before presenting myself amongst the others I naturally thought of dressing, or rather, as I had gone to sleep in my clothes, of performing some sort of toilet and making myself as tidy as I could; but, lo and behold, when I looked round the cabin of the deck-house, nothing in the shape of a washhand-stand was to be seen, while my sea-chest being underneath a lot of traps, I was unable to open the lid of it and make use of the little basin within, as I wished to do if only to "christen it."

I was completely nonplussed at first; but, a second glance showing me Tom Jerrold, one of my berthmates who had turned out before me, washing his face and hands in a bucket of sea-water in the scuppers, I followed suit, drying myself with a very dirty and ragged towel which he lent me in a friendly way, albeit I felt inclined to turn up my nose at it.

"You thought, I suppose," observed Jerrold with a grin, "that you'd have a nice bath-room and a shampooing establishment for your accommodation— eh?"

"No, I didn't," said I, smiling too, and quite cheerful under the circumstances, having determined to act on my father's advice, which Tim Rooney had subsequently confirmed, of never taking umbrage at any joke or chaff from my shipmates, but to face all my disagreeables like a man; "I think, though, we might make some better arrangement than this. I've got a little washhand-basin fixed up inside my chest under there, only I can't get at it."

"So have I in mine, old fellow," he rejoined familiarly; "and it was only sheer laziness that prevented me rigging it up. The fact is, as you'll soon find out, being at sea gets one into terribly slovenly habits, sailors generally making a shift of the first thing that comes to hand."

"I see," said I meditatively; looking no doubt awfully wise and solemn, for he laughed in a jolly sort of way.

"I tell you what, Graham," he remarked affably as he proceeded to plaster his hair down on either side with the moistened palm of his hand in lieu of a brush. "You're not half a bad sort of chap, though Weeks thought you too much of a stuck-up fine gentleman for us; and, d'you know, I'll back you up if you like to keep our quarters in the deck- house here tidy, and set a better example for imitation than Master Weeks, or Matthews—though the latter has left us now, by the way, for a cabin in the saloon, the skipper having promoted him to third mate, as I heard him say just now. Do you agree, eh, to our making order out of chaos?"

"All right! I'll try if you'll help me," I answered, reciprocating his friendly advances, as he seemed a nice fellow—much nicer, I thought, than that little snob Sam Weeks, with his vegetable-marrow sort of face, my original dislike to the latter being far from lessened by the observation Jerrold told me he had made about me! "I like things to be neat and tidy; and as my father used to say, 'cleanliness is next to godliness.'"

"I'm afraid, then," chuckled Tom Jerrold, "we poor sailors are in a bad way; for, although we live on the water and have the ocean at command, I don't believe there's a single foremast hand that washes himself oftener than once a week, at least while he's at sea, from year's end to year's end."

"Oh!" I exclaimed, making him laugh again at my expression of horror.

"Aye, it is so; I'm telling the truth, as you'll find if you ask the boatswain, whom I see you've got chummy with already. But, by Jove, they're just going to set the tops'les; and we'll have the skipper or old Sandy Saunders after us with a rope's-end if we stop jawing here any longer."

From the way he spoke you would think we had been talking for a very long time; but, really, our conversation had only lasted a couple of minutes or so at the outside, while I was making myself tidy, using a little pocket-comb my mother had given me just before I left home, to arrange my hair, instead of imitating Jerrold with his palm brush. I also utilised the bucket of sea-water as an improvised looking-glass so as to get the parting of my hair straight and fix my collar.

The ropes I had heard thrown about the decks were the halliards and clewlines, buntlines, and other gear belonging to the topsails being let go, the gaskets having been thrown off before I was awake; and now at a quick word of command from Mr Mackay—"Sheet home!"—the sails on the fore and main-topsail yards were hauled out to the ends of the clews and set, the canvas being thus extended to its full stretch.

Then followed the next order.

"Man the topsail halliards!"

Thereupon the yards were swung up and the sails expanded to the breeze; and then, the outer jib being hoisted at the same time and the lee- braces hauled in, the man at the wheel putting the helm up the while, the ship payed off on the port tack, making over towards the French coast so as to take advantage of the tide running down Channel on that side. At the same time, the towing-hawser which had up to now still attached us to the tug, was dropped over the bows as we got under weigh.

The Silver Queen seemed to rejoice in her freedom, tossing her bowsprit in the air as she cast off from the tug; and then, heeling over to leeward as she felt the full force of the breeze on her quarter, she gave a plunge downwards, ploughing up the water, now beginning to be crested with little choppy waves as the wind met the current, and sending it sparkling and foaming past her bulwarks, and away behind her in a long creamy wake, that stretched out like a fan astern till it touched Margate sands in the distance.

I now went up on the poop, avoiding the weather side, which Tim Rooney had told me the previous evening was always sacred to the captain or commanding officer on duty; for I noticed that the thin pilot in the monkey-jacket, who had just mounted the companion stairs from the cuddy after having his late breakfast, was walking up and down there with Captain Gillespie, the latter smiling and rubbing his hands together, evidently in good humour at our making such a fine start.

"Good morning!" said Mr Mackay, who was standing at the head of the lee poop ladder, accosting me as I reached the top. "I hope you had a sound, healthy sleep, my boy?"

"Oh yes, thank you, sir," I replied. "I'm ashamed of being so late when everybody else has been so long astir. Isn't there something I can do, sir?"

"No, my boy, not at present," cried he, laughing at my eagerness to be useful, which arose from my seeing Jerrold nimbly mounting up the after- shrouds with Matthews and a couple of other hands to loosen the mizzen- topsail. "You haven't got your sea-legs yet, nor learnt your way about the ship; and so you would be more a hindrance than a help on a yard up aloft."

"But I may go up by and by?" I asked, a little disappointed at not being allowed to climb with the others, they looked so jolly swinging about as if they enjoyed it; with Tom Jerrold nodding and grinning at me over the yard. "Sha'n't I, sir?"

"Aye, by and by, when there's no fear of your tumbling overboard, youngster," he answered good-naturedly. "You must be content with looking on for a while and picking up information. Use your eyes and ears, my lad; and then we'll see you shortly reefing a royal in a gale! You needn't be afraid of our not making you work when the time comes."

"I'll be very glad, sir," I said. "I do not like being idle when others are busy."

"A very good sentiment that, my boy; and I only hope you'll stick to it," he replied earnestly. "That desire to be doing something shows that you're no skulker, but have the makings of a sailor in you, as I told the captain last night; so, you see, you mustn't go back on the character I've given you."

"I won't, sir, if I can help it," said I, with my heart in my words; and, from Mr Mackay's look I'm sure he believed me, but just at that moment he crossed over to the other side of the poop, Captain Gillespie calling him and telling him what he wanted before he could take a step to reach him.

"We'd better get some more sail on her," said the captain, still rubbing his hand as if rolling pills between them; "the pilot thinks so, and so do I."

"All right, sir!" replied Mr Mackay; and going to the front by the rail, he shouted out forwards:

"Hands make sail!"

"Aye, aye, sorr," I heard the boatswain answer in his rich Irish brogue, supplemented by his hail to the crew of: "Tumble up there, ye spalpeens! Show a leg now, smart!"

"Lay out aloft there and loose the fore and main topgallants, my men!" cried Mr Mackay, as soon as he saw the sailors out on the deck. "And, some of you, come aft here to set the spanker!"

Up the ratlines of the rigging clambered the men, racing against each other to see who would be up first, while others below cast off the ropes holding up the bunt and leech of the sail, as soon as the smart fellows had unloosed the gaskets; and then, the folds of the sails being dropped, were sheeted home with a "one, two, three, and a yo heave ho!" by those on deck, before the top men were half-way down the shrouds.

Matthews and Jerrold alone managed the mizzen topgallant-sail, after which the spanker was set, making the ship drive on all the faster through the water; though, even then, Captain Gillespie was not content yet.

"We must have the main-sail and forecourse on her," he said a few minutes later to Mr Mackay. "It would be a sin to lose this wind."

"All right, sir!" replied the other; and the order being at once given, these lower sails were soon set, adding considerably to our average of canvas, the vessel now forging ahead at a good eight knots or more; and we passed Deal, on our starboard hand, some couple of hours or so from the time of our leaving the river.

"I call this going—eh?" cried Captain Gillespie to the pilot, while he cocked his eye up aloft as if he seriously thought of setting the royals. "I said I'd get out of the Straits before the afternoon; and, you know, when I say a thing I always mean a thing!"

"Aye, aye," returned the other, motioning to the helmsman to keep her off a bit as the ship luffed up; "but we'll soon have to come about, for we'll be getting a little too near that shoal to the eastwards on this tack."

"Very good," said the captain; "whenever you please."

"I think we'll wait till we pass the South Sands light," replied the pilot. "Then we can round the Foreland handsomely on the starboard tack with the wind well abaft our beam."

"All right!" was Captain Gillespie's laconic response, rubbing his hands gleefully together again. "Carry-on."

Noticing Tom Jerrold just then on the main-deck, I went down from off the poop and joined him.

"Have you had any breakfast?" he asked when I got up to him, patting his stomach significantly. "I was just thinking of getting mine as I feel very empty here, for all the rest have had theirs."

"No, I haven't had anything but some coffee the cook brought me a long while ago, and I feel hungry too," I replied. "Where do we get our meals?"

"In the cuddy, after the captain and mates have done grubbing," he said. "Come along with me and we'll rouse up that Portugee steward."

"What! Pedro?"

"Yes; you've made his acquaintance already, I see. Did you notice anything particular about him?"

"Only his temper," I said. "Dear me, hasn't he got an awful one!"

"Bless you he only puts half of it on to try and frighten you if you're a new hand," replied Jerrold as he jauntily walked into the cuddy with the air of a commodore. "Only give him a little backsheesh and he'll do anything for you."

"Backsheesh! What is that?"

"Palm oil—tip him. Do you twig?" whispered Tom; "but, mum's the word, here we are in the lion's den!"

To my surprise, however, the whilom cranky steward made no difficulty about supplying our wants; and I strongly suspect that my fellow apprentice must have carried out his advice anent tipping Pedro that very morning, he was so extremely civil. He gave us some cold fried ham and eggs, the remains no doubt of Captain Gillespie's breakfast, with the addition of some coffee which he heated up for us especially, and which I enjoyed all the more from its having some milk in it—it was the very last milk that I tasted until I landed in England again, alas!

After making a hearty meal, I suggested to Tom that if he'd nothing to do we'd better go to work and make our cabin in the deck-house more cosy and habitable; and, on his agreeing, we left the cuddy, I taking care before going out to slip five shillings into the steward's ready palm as an earnest of my future intentions towards him should he treat me well.

"Well, you're in luck's way now, old fellow," said Jerrold when I told him of this outside the passage, Pedro retiring to his pantry to secrete my tip along with others he had probably already received. "Only a day on board, and friends with the first mate, boatswain, cook, and steward; and, last, though by no means least, your humble servant myself, I being the most important personage of all."

"Are you really such a very important personage?" I rejoined, laughing at his affected air—"as big a man as the captain?"

"Aye, for after another voyage I'll be made third mate too, like Matthews, and then second, and then first; and after that a captain like our old friend 'sayings and meanings' here, only a regular tip-topper, unlike him."

"Aren't you anticipating matters a bit, like the Barber's Fifth Brother in the Arabian Nights," said I—"counting your chickens before they're hatched, as my father says?"

"Your father must be a wonderful man," he retorted; but he grinned so funnily that I really couldn't be angry, though I coloured up at his remark; seeing which, to change the subject, he added, "Come and let us rouse out the deck-house and make things comfortable there for ourselves."

This was easier said than done; for in the first place Weeks, who only seemed to think of eating and sleeping and nothing else, was having a quiet "caulk," as sailors call it, cuddled up in the bunk appropriated by Jerrold as being the roomiest, with all our blankets wrapped round him, although the day was quite warm and spring-like for February.

"Hullo!" cried Jerrold at the sight of the slumbering lamb, seizing hold of the blankets. "Out you go, my hearty; and confound your cheek for taking possession of my crib!"

With these words, giving a good tug, Weeks was rolled out on the deck, tumbling on his head. This angered him greatly, and he got up as red as a turkey cock, with the freckles on his face coming out in strong relief.

Seeing that Tom Jerrold was the culprit, however, he soon quieted down, being an arrant sneak and afraid of him.

"What did you do that for?" he whined. "I was only having a nap."

"You're always napping," retorted Tom; "and I should like to know what the dickens you mean by going snoozing in my bunk? I've half a mind to punch your head. The next time I catch you at it I'll keelhaul you, Master Sammy, by Jupiter!"

Jerrold kept on grumbling away, pretending to be very angry; and he frightened Weeks so that he forgot the ugly knock he had received on his own head, and apologised abjectly for the offence he had committed. Tom then allowed his assumed indignation to pass away, and forgave him on the condition that he took away all the spare crockery ware, which the steward had stowed in the top bunk of the deck-house, into the cuddy, giving it to the Portuguese with his, Tom's, compliments.

Weeks thereupon proceeded to execute this mission, Jerrold and I awaiting the result with much anticipated enjoyment, Tom saying to me confidentially as he started for the cuddy, "Won't Pedro carry-on at him! I wouldn't be in the young fool's shoes for something."

The denouement justified our expectations; for, no sooner had Weeks entered the passage way than he came flying out again looking awfully scared, a tremendous crash following as if all the crockery ware was pitched after him, bang! Next, we heard Pedro swearing away in his native tongue, and kicking his preserved meat tins about his pantry at such a rate that Captain Gillespie sang out on the poop above, and sent Matthews down the companion to find out what he was making all the row about. This finally quieted the steward down, but subdued mutterings came to our ears from the cuddy for long afterwards, Pedro never having been so roused up before, not even when Tim Rooney tackled him on the previous day.

Weeks got very angry on our laughing at him when he returned crestfallen to the deck-house, and he went off forwards in high dudgeon; but this did not make any difference to us, we being rather pleased at getting rid of his company—at least I was, for one. So we went on arranging the chests and things in the little cabin until we ultimately made it quite ship-shape and comfortable. As Jerrold had proposed, he had his chest on one side of the doorway and mine and Weeks's were now stowed alongside our bunks, just sufficient space and no more being left for us to open them without having to shift them, and also to get in and out of the cabin.

"Be jabers ye've made a tidy job av it, lads," said the boatswain, coming up as we finished, and surveying approvingly our arrangements. "I couldn't have done it no betther mesilf! Ye can well-nigh swing a cat round, which it would a poozled ye to a-done afore, faix. An' sure, Misther Gray-ham, does ye loike bayin' at say yit?"

"Of course I do," I answered. "Why shouldn't I?"

"Begorra, ye're a caution!" he ejaculated. "An', did that haythin, Ching Wang, wake ye up this mornin' wid some coffee, as he promised me. I wor too busy to say you or ax you afore?"

"Yes," I replied; "and many thanks for your kind thoughtfulness."

"Stow that flummery," he cried; and to prevent my thanking him he began to tell Jerrold and me one of his funny yarns about a pig which his grandmother had, but unfortunately the story was nipped in the bud by a roar from the captain on the poop.

"Hands 'bout ship!"

In a second the boatswain was away piping on the forecastle, and ropes cast off and sails flapping again.

"Helms a-lee!" was the next order from the captain, followed by a second which grew familiar enough to me in time. "Raise tacks and sheets!" and the foretack and main-sheet were cast off with the weather main-brace hauled taut.

Then came the final command, "Main-sail haul!" and the Silver Queen came up to the wind slowly. The foretack being then boarded and the main- sheet hauled aft, she heeled over on the starboard tack with the wind well on her starboard beam, heading towards the South Foreland, which she rounded soon after.

Off Dungeness, which we reached about three in the afternoon, or "six bells," exactly twenty-four hours from the time of our leaving the docks, we hove-to, backing our main-topsail and hoisting a whiff at the peak as a signal that we wanted a boat from the shore to disembark our pilot.

A dandy-rigged little cutter soon came dancing out to us; when the thin man in the monkey-jacket took his farewell of Captain Gillespie and went on board to be landed, the Silver Queen filling again and shaping a course west by south for Beachy Head, and so on down channel, free now of the last link that bound her to old England.

The afternoon, however, was not destined to pass without another incident.

It was getting on for sunset; and, steering more to the west well out from the land so as to avoid the Royal Sovereign shoal, we must have been just abreast of Hastings, although we could not see it, the weather thickening at the time, when suddenly a strange bird settled on the rigging utterly exhausted. It had evidently been blown out to sea and lost its reckoning.

"Here's a Mother Carey's chicken come aboard!" cried Sam Weeks, making for the poor tired thing to catch it. "I'll have it."

"Don't hurt it, it's a starling," I said. "Can't you see its nice shiny black-and-green plumage, and its yellow bill like a blackbird? Leave the poor little thing alone, it's tired to death."

"A starling! your grandmother!" he retorted, nettled at my speaking, and bearing me a grudge still for what had recently occurred in the deck- house. "A fine lot you know about birds, no doubt! I tell you I'll catch it, and kill it too, if I like."

So saying, he made another grab at the little creature, which, just fluttering off the rigging in time, managed for the moment to escape him and perched on the backstay, when the cruel lad hove a marlin-spike at it. He again missed the bird, however, and it then flew straight into the bosom of my jacket as I stood in front of it, whistling to entice it in that chirpy kissing way in which you hear starlings call to each other, having learnt the way to do so from a boy at Westham.

Weeks was furious at my succeeding in the capture of the poor bird when he had failed; although he would not understand that I had only coaxed it to protect it from his violence. Poor little thing. I could feel its little heart palpitating against mine as it rested safe within the breast of my jacket, nestling close to my flannel shirt!

"Why, you've caught it yourself after all, you mean sneak!" he cried; and thinking he was more of a match for me than he was for Tom Jerrold, and could bully me easily, he made a dash at my jacket collar to tear it open, exclaiming at the same time, "I will have it, I tell you. There!"

He made a wrong calculation, however, for, holding my right arm across my chest so as to keep my jacket closed and protect the poor bird that had sought my succour, I threw out my left hand; and so, as he rushed towards me, my outstretched fist caught him clean between the eyes, tumbling him backwards, as if he had been shot, on to the deck, where he rolled over into a lot of water that had accumulated in the scuppers to leeward—the pool in the scuppers washing forwards and then aft as the ship rose and fell and heeled over to port on the wind freshening with the approach of night.



CHAPTER SEVEN.

AT SEA.

"Hullo, Weeks!" cried Tom Jerrold, coming up at the moment and grinning at him rolling in the scuppers. "What's the matter, old fellow? You seem rather down."

"Begorra, he's ownly havin' a cooler to aise that nashty timper av his own," said the boatswain from the door of his cabin, which was just next ours in the deck-house, only more forward. And then, turning to me, he added, "Sure an' that wor a purty droive, Misther Gray-ham; ye lit him have it straight from the shouldher."

"I'm sure I didn't mean to hurt him," I answered, sorry now for my opponent as he scrambled at last up on his feet, looking very bedraggled and showing on his face the signs of the fray. "I only held out my hand to save the poor bird, and he ran against my fist."

"Oh, did you?" slobbered Weeks, half crying, in a savage, vindictive voice, and rushing at me as soon as he rose up. "You spiteful beggar! Well, two can play at that game, and I'll pay you out for it if you've got pluck enough to fight!"

"Be aisy now," interposed Tim Rooney, stepping between us and holding him back. "Sure an' if y're spilin' for a batin' I'm not the chap to privint you; but, if you must foight, why ye'll have to do it fair an' square. Misther Gray-ham, sorr, jist give me the burrd as made the rumpus, I've a little cage in me bunk that'll sarve the poor baste for shilter till ye can get a betther one. It belonged to me ould canary as toorned up its toes last v'y'ge av a fit av the maysles."

"The measles?" exclaimed Tom Jerrold, bursting into a laugh. "I never heard of a bird dying of that complaint before."

"Faix, thin, ye can hear it now," said the boatswain with some heat. "An', sure, I don't say whare the laugh comes in, me joker! Didn't its faythers dhrop off av the poor craythur, an' its skin toorn all spotty, jist loike our friend Misther Wake's phiz here; an' what could that be, sure, but the maysles, I'd loike to know?"

"All right, bosun; I daresay you're right," hastily rejoined Jerrold to appease him; but he made me smile, however, by his efforts to look grave, although my own affairs were just then in such a critical position, with the prospect of a battle before me. "I was only laughing at the idea of a canary with the measles; but I've no doubt they have them the same as we do, and other things like us, too."

"In coorse they does, an' plinty of tongue, too, loike some chaps I've come across on shipboard!" replied Tim, all himself again in all good humour; and then, popping into his cabin, he reappeared quickly with the cage he had mentioned, saying to me, "Sorr, give me the burrd."

I had a little difficulty in extricating the starling from its safe retreat, for it had crept within my flannel shirt inside my jacket, tickling me as it moved; but, going carefully to work, I finally succeeded in taking it out without hurting it. Then, placing the little fluttering thing in the cage, the boatswain bore it off to his bunk, giving me an expressive wink as he took it away, as if to say that it would be safer and more out of harm's way in his keeping, albeit I was quite at liberty to reclaim the bird when I pleased.

"Now, jintlemin," said Tim, addressing Weeks and myself after putting the innocent cause of our quarrel inside his cabin and locking the door to prevent accidents, as he shrewdly observed, "if ye're both av ye riddy an' willin', as it's goin' on for the sicond dog-watch, whin all hands are allers allowed at say to skoilark an' devart theirsilves, ye can follow me out on the fo'c's'le, me jokers, an' have y'r shindy out fairly in a friendly way."

I didn't want to fight Weeks, I'm sure; for I was not of a quarrelsome disposition, besides which my father had cautioned me against ever having any disputes with my comrades, if I could avoid such; although he told me also at the same time always to act courageously in the defence of my principles and of my rights, or when I took the part of another unable to defend himself. Here, therefore, was a quarrel forced upon me, almost against my will, to save the poor starling's life; and, beyond that, the aggravating way in which Weeks looked at me and shook his fist in my face would have provoked even a better-tempered boy than I. Tom Jerrold said afterwards that I turned quite white, as I always did when excited; while Weeks, on the contrary, was naming with fury and as red as a lobster.

"Come on, you coward!" he blustered, thinking I was afraid of him. "I'll soon let you know what it is to have a good hiding, my fine gentleman of a parson's son. You only floored me just now because you caught me unawares."

"I'm quite ready, Mr Rooney," said I to the boatswain, paying no attention to the cur's snobbish bravado; but I felt his sneer against my father's profession keenly, and had to bite my lip to prevent myself from replying to it. I added, however, for his personal benefit as I turned my back on him in contempt, "Those who crow the loudest, I've heard, generally do the least when the time for real action comes!"

"Thrue for ye, Mister Gray-ham," cried Tim Rooney. "Brag's a good dog, but Howldfast's the bist for my money. Come on wid ye, though, to the fo'c's'le if ye manes foightin'; for we've had palaverin' enough now in all conshinsh!"

So saying, the boatswain led the way forward, Tom Jerrold, who dearly loved anything in the way of a spree, and was overjoyed at the prospect of what he called "a jolly row," following with Weeks, to make sure that he did not back out of the contest at the last moment, which, knowing his cowardly character very well, as Tom told me afterwards, he anticipated his doing. I brought up the rear—and so we proceeded towards the bows of the ship along the lee-side of the deck, so as to escape the observation of Captain Gillespie and Mr Mackay. These were standing together, I noticed when the starling flew on board, by the rail on the weather side of the poop, where they were having a good look-out to windward, and watching some clouds that were piling themselves in black masses along the eastern sky—shutting out the last vestiges of land in the distance, already now become hazy from the mist rising from the sea after sunset.

Passing under the bellying main-sail, whose clew-garnet blocks rattled as it expanded to the breeze, which was now blowing pretty stiff, with every indication of veering more round to the north, causing the yards to have a pull taken at the braces every now and then, our little procession soon got clear of the deck-house that occupied the centre of the main-deck, finally gaining the more open space between the cook's galley at the end and the topgallant forecastle.

Here, the folds of the foresail, swelled out like a balloon, interposed like a curtain betwixt the after-glow of the setting sun and ourselves, the shadows of the upper sails, too, making it darker than on the after part of the deck whence we had started; but it was still quite light enough for me to see the expression on Weeks' mottled face as he stood opposite me.

Not much time was wasted in preliminaries, the boatswain, who acted as master of the ceremonies, placing me against the windlass bitts while my opponent had his back to the galley, what light there was remaining shining full upon him.

I had been present at one or two fights before, at the school I used to attend at Westham, where the boys used to settle their differences generally at the bottom of the playground under a little clump of shady trees that were grouped there, which shut off the view of the house and the headmaster's eye; but never previously had the surroundings of any similar pugilistic encounter seemed so strange as now!

As usual in such cases, the news had circulated through the ship with astonishing rapidity, considering that only a couple of minutes or so at most had elapsed since I had saved the starling and knocked down Weeks; for the whole crew, with the exception of two or three hands standing by the braces and the man at the wheel, appeared to scent the battle from afar, and were now gathered near the scene of action—some on the forecastle with their legs dangling over, others in the lower rigging, whence they could command the issues of the fray.

It was a pitiful contrast!

Here was the noble vessel surging through the gradually rising sea, with her towering masts and spreading canvas, and the wind whistling through the cordage, and the water coming every now and then over her bows in a cascade of iridescent spray, as the fast-fading gleams of the sunset lit it up, or else rushing by the side of the ship like a mill-race as we plunged through it, welling in at the scuppers as it washed inboard. All illustrated the grandeur of nature, the perfection of art; while there, on the deck, under the evening sky and amid all the glories of the waning glow in the western horizon and the grandeur of the sea in its might and the ship in its beauty and power over the winds and waves alike, were we two boys standing up to fight each other, with a parcel of bearded men who ought to have known better grouped round eagerly awaiting the beginning of the combat.

A contrast, but yet only an illustration of one of the ordinary phases of human nature after all, as father would have said, I thought, this reflection passing through my mind with that instantaneous spontaneity with which such fancies do occur to one, as Rooney placed me in my assigned position. Then, recalling my mind to the present, I noticed that Matthews, my whilom fellow apprentice and lately promoted third mate, sinking the dignity of his new rank, had come forward to act as the second, or backer, of my opponent, who must have sent some message aft to summon him.

"Now, me bhoys, are ye riddy?" sang out the boatswain, who stood on the weather side of the deck, glancing first at me and then at Weeks. "One, two, thray—foire away!"

I was not quite a novice in the use of my fists, my brother Tom, who, before he went to Oxford and got priggish, had bought a set of boxing- gloves, having made me put them on with him, sometimes, and showed me how to keep a firm guard and when to hit. My experience was invariably to get the worst of these amicable encounters, for I used to be knocked off my pins, besides feeling my forehead soft and pulpy; for, no matter how well padded gloves may be, a fellow can give a sturdy punch with them, or appreciate one, all the same. Still, the practice stood me in good stead on this eventful occasion, especially as my brother had well drilled me into being light on my feet and dexterous in the art of stepping forward to deliver a blow and backward to avoid one—no small advantage, and the resource of science over brute force.

So, holding my right arm well across my chest and just about level with it, so that I could raise it either up or down as quick as lightning, to protect my face or body, I advanced my left fist, and waited for Sam Weeks to come on with a rush, as I was certain he would do, bracing myself well on my legs to receive the shock, although the pitching of the ship made me somewhat more uncertain of my equilibrium than if the combat had taken place ashore.

My antagonist acted exactly as I had expected.

Whirling his arms round like those of a windmill, he beat down my guard and gave me a nasty thump with one of them on the side of the head, for being lanky, as I said, he had a longer reach than I; however, as he got in close enough, my left fist caught him clean between the eyes again, landing on the identically same spot where I had hit him before, the place being already swollen, and whereas I only staggered against the windlass from his blow, mine sent him tumbling backwards, and he would have fallen on the deck if Matthews had not held him up just in time.

"Bray-vo, dark 'un!" shouted one of the men standing around, complimenting me on having the best of this first exchange, and alluding no doubt to the colour of my hair, which was dark brown while that of Weeks was quite sandy, like light Muscovado sugar. "Give him a one-two next time; there's nothing like the double!"

"I'll back freckles," cried another; "he's got more go in him!"

"Arrah, laive 'em alone, can't ye?" said the boatswain, as we faced each other again. "Don't waste y'r toime, sure. Go it, ye chripples; an' may the bist av ye win, sez I!"

The next two rounds had somewhat similar results to the first, I keeping up a steady defence and hitting my antagonist pretty nearly in the same place each time, while he gave me a couple of swinging blows, one of which made my mouth bleed, whereat his admirers were in high glee, especially Matthews, his second, for I heard the latter say to him, "Only go on and you'll soon settle him now, Sam!"

My friend the boatswain, however, was equally sanguine as to the result, as his encouraging advice to me showed.

"Kape y'r pecker up, Misther Gray-ham. Sure, he's gittin' winded, as all av thim lane an' lanky chaps allers does arter a bit," said Tim, wiping the blood away that was trickling from my lip with his soft silk handkerchief, which he took off from his own neck for the purpose. "Begorra, ye've ownly to hammer at his chist an' body, me lad; an' ye'll finish him afore ye can say 'Jack Robinson,' an' it's no lie I'm tellin'!"

Hitherto I had been merely acting on the defensive, and parrying the blows rained on me by Weeks in his impetuous rushes, more than hitting in return; for only keeping my left fist well out and allowing him to meet it as he so pleased, and which, strange to say, whether he wished it or not, he did so meet.

But now, thinking it time to end matters, the sight of the blood the boatswain had wiped from my face somehow or other bringing out what I suppose was the innate savagery of my nature, I determined to carry the war into the enemy's camp; or, in other words, instead of standing to be struck at, to lead the attack myself.

As Weeks, therefore, advanced with a grin, confidently as before, thinking that I should merely remain on guard, I threw my left straight out, swinging all the weight of my body in the blow; and then, stepping forwards, I gave him the benefit of my right fist, the one following up the other in quick succession, although I acted on Tim's advice, and directed my aim towards his body.

The result of these new tactics of mine altered alike the complexion not only of the fight but that of my antagonist as well; for he went down on the deck with a heavy dull thud, almost all his remaining breath knocked out of him.

"Hurrah, the little un wins!" cheered some of the hands; while others rejoined in opposition, "The lanky one ain't licked yet!"

But, to my especial friend the boatswain the end of the contest was now a foregone conclusion and victory assured to me.

"Bedad, me bhoy," he whispered in my ear as he prepared me for what turned out to be the final round of the battle, "that last dhroive av yourn wor loike the kick av a horse, or a pony anyhow! One more brace av them one-twos, Misther Gray-ham, an' he'll be kilt an' done wid!"

It was as Rooney said.

Matthews forced Weeks well-nigh against his will to face me once more, when my double hit again floored him incontinently, when the ship, giving a lurch to leeward at the same time, rolled him into the scuppers, as before at our first encounter.

This settled the matter, for, with all the pluck taken out of him and completely cowed, Master Sammy did not offer to rise until Matthews, catching hold of his collar, forcibly dragged him to his feet.

"Three cheers for the little un!" shouted one of the hands, as I stood triumphant on the deck in their midst, the hero of the moment, sailors following the common creed of their fellow men in worshipping success. "Hooray!"

A change came over the scene, however, the next instant.

For, ere the last note of the cheer had ceased ringing out from their lusty throats, Captain Gillespie's long nose came round the corner of the cook's caboose, followed shortly afterwards by the owner of the article—causing Ching Wang, who had been surveying the progress of the fight with much enjoyment, to retreat instantly within his galley, the smile of satisfaction on his yellow oval face and twinkle of his little pig-like eyes being replaced by that innocent look of one conscious of rectitude and in whom there is no guile, affected by most of his celestial countrymen.

"Hullo, bosun!" cried the captain, addressing Tim Rooney, who was helping me to put on my jacket again, and endeavouring, rather unsuccessfully, to conceal all traces of the fray on my person. "What the dickens does all this mean?"

"Sorry o' me knows, sorr, why them omahdawns is makin' all av that row a-hollerin'," said Tim, scratching his head as he always did when puzzled for the moment for an answer. "It's ownly Misther Gray-ham, sorr, an' Misther Wakes havin' a little bit of foon togither, an' settlin' their differses in a frindly way, loike, sorr."

"Fighting, I suppose,—eh?"

An ominous stillness succeeded this question, the men around following Ching Whang's example and sneaking inside the forecastle and otherwise slily disappearing from view. Presently, only Tim Rooney and Matthews remained before the captain besides us two, the principals of the fight, and Tom Jerrold, who, blocked between Captain Gillespie and the caboose, could not possibly manage to get away unperceived.

"Yes, there's no doubt you've been fighting," continued the captain, looking from Weeks to me and from me to Weeks, and seeming to take considerably more interest than either of us cared for in our bruised knuckles and battered faces and generally dilapidated appearance; for his long nose turned up scornfully as he sniffed and expanded his nostrils, compressing his thin lips at the end of his inspection with an air of decision. "Well, youngsters, I'd have you to know that I don't allow fighting aboard my ship, and when I say a thing I mean a thing. There!"

"But, sir," snivelled Weeks, beginning some explanation, intended no doubt to throw all the blame on me. "Graham—"

Captain Gillespie, however, interrupted him before he could proceed any further.

"You'd better not say anything, Weeks," said the captain. "Graham's a new hand and you're an old one; at least, you've already been one voyage, whilst this is his first. I see you've had a lickin' and I'm glad of it, as I daresay it's been brought about by your own bullying; for I know you, Master Samuel Weeks, by this time, and you can't take me in as you used to do with your whining ways! If I didn't believe you were pretty well starched already, I'd give you another hiding now, my lad. Please, my good young gentleman, just to oblige me, go up in the mizzen-top so that I can see you're there, and stop till I call you down! As for you, Matthews, whom I have just promoted I'm surprised at your forgetting yourself as an officer, and coming here forrud, to take part with the crew in a disgraceful exhibition like this. I—"

"Please, sir—" expostulated the culprit. But the captain was firm on the matter of discipline, as I came to know in time.

"You'll go aft at once, Mr Matthews," he said, waving him away with his outstretched arm. "Another such dereliction from duty and you shall come forrud altogether, as you appear to like the fo'c's'le so well. I have made you third officer; but bear in mind that if I possess the power to make, I can break too!"

It was now Tim Rooney's turn, the captain wheeling round on him as soon as he'd done with Matthews.

"Really, bosun," he said, "I didn't think a respectable man like you would encourage two boys to fight like that!"

"Bedad it wor ownly to privint their bein' onfrindly, sorr," pleaded Tim, looking as much ashamed as his comical twinkling left eye would permit. "I thought it'd save a lot av throuble arterwards, spakin' as regards mesilf, sorr; fur I'm niver at paice onless I'm in a row, sure!"

"Ha, a nice way of making friends—pummelling each other to pieces and upsetting my ship," retorted Captain Gillespie. But, as Tim Rooney made no answer, thinking discretion the better part of valour in this instance, and going up into the bows as if to look out forward, the captain then addressed me: "Graham!"

"Yes, sir," said I, awaiting my sentence with some trepidation. "I'm very sorry, sir, for what has happened, I—"

"There, I want no more jaw," he replied, hastily snapping me up before I could say another word. "I saw all that occurred, though neither of you thought I was looking. Weeks rushed at you, and you hit him; and then this precious hot-headed bosun of mine made you 'have it out,' as he calls it, in 'a friendly way,' the idiot, in his Irish bull fashion! But, as I told you, I won't have any fighting here, either between boys or men, and when I say a thing I mean a thing; so, to show I allow no relaxation of discipline on board so long as I'm captain, Master Graham, you'll be good enough to remain on deck to-night instead of going to bed, and will keep the middle watch from 'eight bells' to morning."

"Very good, sir," I replied, bowing politely, having already taken off my cap on his speaking to me; and I then went back to our deck-house cabin and had a lie down, as I felt pretty tired. Ching Wang, however, came to rouse me up soon afterwards with a pannikin of hot coffee, his way of showing his appreciation of my conduct in the fray, and I subsequently went with Tim Rooney to see the starling—which made me quite forget all about being tired and having to stop up all night, and that Tom Jerrold had escaped any punishment for his presence at the fight!

At eight o'clock, when it was quite dark, we passed Beachy Head, seeing the light in the distance; and then, feeling hungry again, I went to the steward in the cuddy and got something to eat, meeting there poor Weeks, whom the captain had only just called down from his perch in the mizzen- top, very cold and shivery from being so long up there in his wet clothes in the night air.

He looked rather grimly at me, and from the light in the saloon I noticed that he had a lovely pair of black eyes; but, on my stretching out my hand to him, we made friends, and agreed to bury all the disagreeable occurrences of the day in oblivion.

We had a lot of yarning together until midnight inside the deck-house, where Tom Jerrold lay an his bunk snoring away, utterly regardless of our presence; and then, on Mr Mackay's summoning me, by the captain's order as he told me, to keep watch with him on the poop, I went up the ladder and remained with him astern, watching the ship bowling along under all plain sail, with the same buoyant breeze behind her with which we had started.

"Now, Graham," said Mr Mackay at daybreak, when we were just off Saint Catharine's Point in the Isle of Wight, as he informed me, "you can go and turn in. Bosun, call the starboard watch!"

"Aye, aye, sorr," answered Tim Rooney from the bows, where he had been keeping his vigils, too, like us aft. "Starbowlines, ahoy—!"

I only remained on the poop while the man at the wheel was being relieved, and Mr Saunders, the second mate, came on deck to take Mr Mackay's place; when, going below to the deck-house cabin, I was soon in my little shelf of a bed, falling asleep more quickly, I think, than I had ever done before; doing so, indeed, almost the instant I got within the blankets.

The next day, at noon, we tore by the Start, and, later on, that noblest monument a man could have, the Eddystone, Smeaton's glory; the ship racing down Channel as if all the sea-nymphs were chasing us, and old Neptune, too, at their heels to hurry them on, with his tritons after him.

Our average speed all that day was a good ten knots, the wind never shifting and every sail drawing fore and aft. Sometimes it was even more, according to Tom Jerrold's calculations, he having to heave the log at intervals and turn the fourteen-second glass, his especial duty, in order to determine our rate of progress through the water; but I don't think it was ever less from the time the sun rose in the morning.

At all events, the Silver Queen made such good use of her time that, at six o'clock on this evening of our second day under sail, we were up to the Lizard, the last bit of English shore we should see in a hurry; and at "six bells" in the first watch, were speeding along some ten miles south of the Bishop's Rock lightship in the Scilly Isles, really, at last, at sea!



CHAPTER EIGHT.

A SUDDEN INTERRUPTION.

"Now, my boy," said Mr Mackay, who had the "first watch," from eight o'clock till midnight that is, I sharing it with him, speaking as we were just abreast of the light I've mentioned, although so far to the southward that it could only be seen very faintly glimmering on the horizon like a star, a trifle bigger than those which twinkled above it and on either side in the clear northern sky—"we've run exactly forty- six miles from our departure point."

"Departure point, sir!" I repeated after him, my curiosity aroused by the use of such a term. "What is that?"

"The last land sighted before a ship gains the open sea," replied he kindly, always willing to give me any information, although I'm afraid I caused him a good deal of trouble with my innumerable questions, in my zeal to get acquainted with everything connected with the ship and my profession as an embryo sailor. "Ours was the Lizard; didn't you notice Cap'en Gillespie taking the bearings of it as we passed this afternoon?"

"Yes, sir. I saw him with his sextant, as you told me that queer triangular thing was," said I; "but I didn't know what he was doing. I thought our starting-place was the Thames? We must have gone miles and miles since we left the Downs."

"So we have, my boy; still, that was only the threshold of our long journey, and sailors do not begin to count their run until fairly out at sea as we are now. When you came up to town the other day from that place in the country—West something or other?"

"Westham, sir," I suggested; "that's where we live."

"Well, then," he went on, accepting my correction with a smile, "when you were telling your adventures and stated that you came from Westham to London in three hours, say, you would not include the time you had taken in going from the door of your house to the garden gate and from thence to the little town or village whence you started by the railway— eh?"

"No, sir," said I, laughing at his way of putting the matter. "I would mean from the station at Westham to the railway terminus in London."

"Just so," he answered; "and, similarly, we sailors in estimating the length of a voyage, do not take into consideration our passage along the river and down channel, only counting our distance from the last point of land we see of the country we are leaving and the first we sight of that we're bound to. Our first day's run, therefore, will be what we get over from the Lizard up to the time the cap'en takes the sun at noon to-morrow, which will tell us our latitude and longitude then, when, by the aid of this fixed starting-point or 'point of departure,' and calculating our dead reckoning and courses steered, we will be enabled to know our precise position on the chart."

"I see, sir," said I. "I won't forget what you've told me another time, and shall know in future what the term means, sir, thank you."

"You're quite welcome, Graham," he replied pleasantly as he resumed his walk up and down the deck, with an occasional glance to windward and a look at the compass in the binnacle to see that the helmsman was keeping the ship on the course the captain had directed before going below a short time before—west-sou'-west, and as close up to the wind as we could sail, so as to avoid the French coast and get well across the mouth of the Bay of Biscay into the open Atlantic. "I hope to make a good navigator of you in time, my boy."

"I hope so, too, sir," said I, trying to keep pace with his measured tread, although I always got out of step as he turned regularly at the end of his walk, which was backwards and forwards between the cabin skylight and the binnacle. "I will try my best, sir."

While bearing in mind the "departure point," however, I must not forget to mention, too, that immediately after Captain Gillespie had taken our bearings off the Lizard, he sang out to Tim Rooney the boatswain to send the hands aft.

"Aye, aye, sorr," responded Tim, at once sounding his shrill whistle and hoarse shout. "A-all ha-ands aft!"

"Now for a bit of speechifying," said Tom Jerrold, who was along with me on the lee-side of the poop, watching the crew as they mustered together on the main-deck underneath. "The 'old man' loves a jaw."

But Tom was mistaken; for the captain's speech was laconic in the extreme, being "much shorter, indeed, than his nose," as my fellow mid was forced to acknowledge in a whisper to me!

"My men," said he, leaning over the brass rail at the head of the poop, and gazing down into the faces of the rough-and-ready fellows looking up at him expectantly, with all sorts of funny expressions on their countenances, as they wondered what was to come—"we're now at sea and entering on a long voyage together. I only wish you to do your duty and I will do mine. If you have anything to complain of at any time, come to me singly and I will right it; but if you come in a body, I'll take no notice of ye. Ye know when I say a thing I mean a thing."

"Aye, aye sir!" shouted the hands, on his pausing here as if waiting for their answer. "Aye, aye, sir!"

"All right then; ye understand me, I see. That will do the watch."

Whereupon, half of them went back into the forecastle to finish their tea, while the remainder took their stations about the ship, remaining on deck until their span of duty was out, the whole lot having been divided into two groups, styled respectively the port and starboard watches, under charge of Mr Mackay and the second mate, Mr Saunders— Tom Jerrold and I being in the port watch with the first mate; while Sam Weeks and Matthews, who was like the fifth wheel of a coach as "third mate," a very anomalous position on board-ship, mustered with the starbowlines under Mr Saunders.

Counting in Captain Gillespie, with the three mates, us apprentices, the boatswain, sailmaker Adams and carpenter Gregory—the three latter all "old hands," having sailed several voyages previously together in the ship—the steward Pedro Carvalho, Ching Wang our cook, Billy the boy, our "second-class apprentice," and the eighteen fresh men who had come aboard with the Chinaman at Gravesend, our crew mustered all told some thirty-one hands; and, to complete the description of the vessel and her belongings, the Silver Queen was a sharp-bowed, full-rigged ship, with a tremendous bilge, built for carrying a goodish cargo, which consisted, as I believe I mentioned before, mainly of Manchester goods and Birmingham hardware, besides a private speculation of our captain consisting of a peculiarly novel consignment of Dundee marmalade, packed up in tins like those used for preserved meats and such like dainties.

About this marmalade I shall have something to say by and by; but I think I had better go on with my yarn in proper ship-shape fashion, narrating events in the order in which they occurred—merely stating, in order to give a full account of all concerning us, that, in addition to the particulars of our cargo as already detailed, we had sundry items of live freight in the shape of some pigs, which were stowed in the long- boat on top of the deck-house; three cats, two belonging to the Portuguese steward and messing in the cuddy, while the third was a vagrant Tom that had strayed on board in the docks, and making friends with the carpenter Gregory, or "old chips" as he was generally called, was allowed to take up his quarters in the forepeak, migrating to the cook's cabin at meal-times with unwavering sagacity; a lot of fowls, accommodated aristocratically in coops on the poop; and, lastly, though by no means least, the starling which I'd caught coming down Channel, and which now seemed very comfortable in the boatswain's old canary cage, hung up to a ringbolt in his cabin next to mine, and regarded as a sort of joint property between us two.

There, you have our list of passengers; and, now, to continue my story.

Shortly after passing the Bishop's Rock lighthouse, which we did some few minutes before "Billy," the ship's boy, came out of the forecastle and struck "six bells," eleven o'clock, near the end of the port watch's spell on deck, the wind, which had freshened considerably since sunset, began to blow with greater force, veering, or "backing" as sailors say, more and more round to the north; so that, although our yards were braced up to the full and the vessel was sailing almost close-hauled, we had to drop off a point or two within the next half-hour from our true western course.

Within the next half-hour, south-west by west was as close as we could now keep her head outward across "The Bay," the wind even then continuing to show a tendency to shift further round still to the northwards and westwards, and naturally forcing us yet more in a southerly direction before gaining the offing Captain Gillespie wished.

The sea, too, had got up wonderfully during the short period that had elapsed from our leaving the Chops of the Channel—I suppose from its having a wider space to frolic in, without being controlled by the narrow limits of land under its lea; for, the scintillating light of the twinkling stars and pale sickly moon, whose face was ever and anon obscured by light fleecy clouds floating across it in the east, showed the tumid waste of waters heaving and surging tempestuously as far as the eye could reach. The waves were tumbling over each other and racing past the ship in sport, sending their flying scud high over the foreyard, or else trying vainly to poop her; and, when foiled in this, they would dash against her bows with the blow of a battering-ram, or fling themselves bodily on board in an angry cataract that poured down from the forecastle on to the main-deck, flooding the waist up to the height of the bulwarks to leeward, for we heeled over too much to allow of the sea running off through the scuppers, these and our port gunwale as well being well-nigh under water.

Presently, we had to reduce sail, brailing up the spanker and taking a single reef in the topsails; but still keeping the topgallant-sails set above them, a thing frequently done by a skipper who knows how to "carry-on."

Then, as the wind still rose and as with less canvas the ship would go all the better and not bend over or bury herself so much, the topgallants were taken in. At length, when Mr Mackay and I quitted the deck at midnight, the men were just beginning to clew up the main-sail, the captain, who had come up from below with Mr Saunders when the starboard watch relieved us, having ordered it to be furled and another reef to be taken in the topsails, as it was then blowing great guns and the ship staggering along through a storm-tossed sea, with the sky overcast all round—a sign that we had not seen the worst of it yet!

The Silver Queen pitched so much—giving an occasional heavy roll to starboard as her bows fell off from the battering of the waves, with her stern lifting up out of the water, and rolling back quickly to port again on her taking the helm as the men jammed it hard down—that I found it all I could do to descend the poop ladder safely. I climbed down gingerly, however, holding on to anything I could clutch until I reached the deck-house, which was now nearly knee-deep in the water that was sluicing fore and aft the ship with every pitch and dive she gave, or washing in a body athwart the deck as she rolled, and dashing like a wave against the bulwarks within.

I went to turn in to my bunk, which was on top of that occupied by Sam Weeks, who, very luckily for him, had to turn out, going aft on duty with the rest of the starboard watch; for, in my struggles to ascend to the little narrow shelf that served me for a bed, and which from the motion of the ship was almost perpendicular one moment and the next horizontal, I would have pretty well trampled him to jelly, having to stand on the lower bunk to reach the upper one assigned to me.

Ultimately, however, I managed to climb up to my perch and pulled my blankets about me; and then I tried to sleep as well as the roaring of the wind and rushing wash of the sea, in concert with the creaking of the chain-plates and groaning of the ship's timbers and myriad voices of the deep, would let me.

But, it was all in vain!

Hitherto, although I had been more than two days and two nights on board and had sailed all the way from the docks along the river and down the Channel, I had never yet been sea-sick, smiling at Tim Rooney's stereotyped inquiry each day of me, "An' sure, Misther Gray-ham, aren't ye sorry yit ye came to say?"

Since the afternoon, however, when the water had become rougher and the ship more lively, I had begun to experience a queer sensation such as I recollect once having at home at Christmas-time—on which occasion Dr Jollop, who was called in to attend me, declared I had eaten too much plum-pudding, just in order to give me some of his nasty pills, of course!

I hadn't had the chance of having anything so good as that now; but, at tea-time Tom Jerrold, who, like myself, had made friends with Ching Wang, had induced him to compound a savoury mess entitled, "dandy funk," composed of pounded biscuits, molasses, and grease. Of this mess, I am sorry to say, I had partaken; and the probable source of my present ailment was, no doubt, the insidious dandy funk wherewith Jerrold had beguiled me.

Oh, that night!

Dandy funk or no, I could not soon forget it, for I never was so sick in my life; and what is more, every roll of the ship made me worse, so that I thought I should die—Tom Jerrold, the heartless wretch, who was snoring away as usual in the next bunk to Weeks' below, not paying the slightest attention to my feeble calls to him for help and assistance between the paroxysms of my agonising qualms.

Somehow or other a sympathetic affinity seemed to be established between the vessel and myself, I rolling as she rolled and heaving when she heaved; while my heart seemed to reach from the Atlantic back to the Channel, and I felt as if I had swallowed the ocean and was trying to get rid of it and couldn't!

Ille robur et aes triplex, as Horace sang on again getting safely ashore—for he must have been far too ill when afloat in his trireme— and as father used to quote against me should I praise the charms of a sailor's life, "framed of oak and fortified with triple brass" must have been he who first braved the perils of the sea and made acquaintance with that fell demon whom our French neighbours style more elegantly than ourselves le mal de mer!

Weeks had his revenge upon me now with a vengeance indeed for all he might have suffered from my pummelling of the previous day; yes, and for the reproach of the two black eyes I had given him, which had since altered their colouring to the tints of the sea and sky, they being now of a bluish-purple hue shaded off into green and yellow, so that the general effect harmonised, as Tom Jerrold unkindly remarked, with his sandy hair and mottled complexion.

But, my whilom enemy and now friend Sammy must have been amply indemnified for all this when, at the end of the middle watch, he came in due course to rouse me out again for another turn of duty, not knowing that Mr Mackay, as if anticipating what would happen after the shaking up I had had, had given me leave to lie-in if I liked and "keep my watch below;" for, when Weeks succeeded in opening the door of the deck-house, which he did with much difficulty against the opposing forces of the wind and the water that united to resist his efforts, he found me completely prostrate and in the very apogee of my misery.

"Hullo, Graham!" he called out, clutching hold of the corner of the blanket that enveloped one of my limp legs, which was hanging down almost as inanimate over the side of the bunk, and shaking this latter, too, as vigorously as he did the blanket. "Rouse out, it's gone eight bells and the port watch are already on deck, with Mr Mackay swearing away at a fine rate because you're not there—rouse out with you, sharp!"

There was no rousing me, however, pull and tug and shake away as much as he pleased both at my leg and the blanket.

"Leave me alone," I at last managed to say loud enough for him to hear me. "Mr Mackay told me I needn't turn out unless I felt well enough; and, oh, Weeks, I do feel so awfully ill!"

"Ill! what's the row with you?"

"I don't know," I feebly murmured. "I think I'm going to die; and I'm so sorry I hurt your eyes yesterday, they do look so bad."

"Oh, hang my eyes!" replied he hastily, as if he did not like the subject mentioned; and I don't wonder at this now, when I recollect how very funny they looked, all green and yellow as if he had a pair of goggle-eyed spectacles on. "Why can't you turn out? You were well enough when you called me four hours ago—shamming Abraham, I suppose,— eh?"

I was too weak, though, to be indignant.

"Indeed I'm not shamming anything," I protested as earnestly as I could, not quite knowing what his slang phrase meant, but believing it to imply that I was pretending to be ill to shirk duty when I was all right. "Weeks, I'm terribly ill, I tell you!"

He scrutinised me as well as he could by the early light of morning, now coming in through the open cabin door, which he had not been able to close again, the wind holding it back and resisting all his strength.

Tom Jerrold, too, aroused by Weeks' voice and the cold current of air that was blowing in upon him, rubbed his eyes, and standing up in his bunk while holding on to the top rail of mine, had also a good look at me.

"Bah!" cried he at length. "You're only sea-sick."

That was all the consolation he gave me as he shoved himself into his clothes; and then, hastily lugging on a thick monkey-jacket hurried out on deck.

"A nice mess you've made, too, of the cabin."

This was Master Weeks' sympathy as he took possession of Jerrold's vacated bunk and quietly composed himself to sleep, regardless of my groans and deaf to all further appeals for aid.

Tim Rooney, however, was the most unkind of all.

Later on in the morning he popped in his head at the cabin door.

"Arrah, sure now, Misther Gray-ham, arn't ye sorry ye iver came to say, at all at all?"

I should like to have pitched something at him, although I knew what he would say the moment he opened his mouth, with that comical grin of his and the cunning wink of his left eye.

"No," I cried as courageously as I was able under the circumstances, "I'm not sorry, I tell you, in spite of all that has happened, and when I get better I'll pay you out for making fun of me when I'm ill!"

"Begorra don't say that now, me darlint," said he, grinning more than ever. "Arrah, though, me bhoy, ye look as if ye'd been toorned insoide out, loike them injy-rubber divils childer has to play wid. 'Dade an' I'd loike to say ye sprooce an' hearty ag'in; but ownly kape aisy an' ye'll be all roight in toime. D'ye fale hoongry yit?"

"Hungry!" I screamed, ill again at the very thought of eating. "Go away, do, and leave me alone—o-oh!"

And then I was worse than ever, and seemed afterwards to have no heart, or head, or stomach left, or legs, or arms, or anything.

The boatswain did not forget me though, in spite of his fun at my expense; and he must have spoken to Ching Wang again about me, for the Chinaman came to the cabin after giving the men their breakfast at eight bells, bringing me a pannikin of hot coffee, his panacea for every woe.

"Hi, lilly pijjin, drinkee dis chop chop," said he, holding the pannikin to my mouth. "Makee tummy tummy number one piecee!"

I could not swallow much of the liquid; but the drop or two that I took did me good; for, after Ching Wang had gone away I fell asleep, not waking till the afternoon, when, the ship being steadier, I managed to scramble out of my bunk and made a late appearance on deck, feeling decidedly weak but considerably better than in the morning.

"Hullo, found your sea-legs already?" cried Mr Mackay on my crawling up the poop ladder. "I didn't expect to see you out for another day at least."

"I don't feel all right yet, sir," said I, and I'm sure my pale face must have shown this without any explanation; "but, I didn't like to give way to being ill, thinking it best to fight against it."

"Quite right, my boy," he replied. "I've never been sea-sick myself, not even the first time I went afloat; but, I've seen a good many suffering from the complaint, and I have noticed that the more they humoured it, the worse they became. You're getting used to the motion of the ship by this time—eh?"

"Yes, sir," said I, holding on tightly, however, to the bulwarks as I spoke, the Silver Queen just then giving a lurch to starboard that nearly pitched me overboard. "I'll soon be able to stand up like you, sir."

"Well, at all events, you've got plenty of pluck, Graham; and that's the sort of material for making a good sailor. You were asking me last night about the course of the ship, if your sickness hasn't put our talk out of your head. How far do you think we've run?"

"A good way, I suppose, sir," I answered, "with that gale of wind."

"Yes, pretty so so," he said. "When the cap'en took the sun at noon to- day we were in latitude 48 degrees 17 minutes north and longitude just 8 degrees 20 west, or about two hundred miles off Ushant, which we're to the southward of; so, we've run a goodish bit from our point of departure."