The Cruise of the Midge (Vol. 1 of 2)

by Michael Scott

CHAPTER VIII.

CAPE MISSIONARIES.

I returned on board of the Midge, as in Sir Oliver's weak state of health I thought it better to resist his desire that I should resume my cot in his cabin for the present.

Notwithstanding the hopelessness of young De Walden being alive, still we clung to this part of the coast for three whole days; and several boats were sent in across the bar at high water on each day. But over the whole banks of the vile river there prevailed a churchyard silence. Not a native was to be seen; and, on the evening of the third day, we all got safely and finally on board again. The night was spent as usual in making short boards, so as to hold our ground; and at eleven on the following forenoon, Lanyard's signal was made to repair on board.

The gig was manned, and we pulled to the frigate. A number of joyous faces were stuck over the hammock cloths reconnoitring us as we approached, all on the broad grin apparently. I had no sooner reached the quarterdeck than I met Sprawl.

"Ah! Benjie, my love, congratulate us, we are to bear up for the West Indies at noon, my boy. What do you think of that? We shall lose sight of this infernal coast for six months at all events."

"Ha, ha," said old Dick, forcing a laugh in great bitterness, "very lucky, very comfortable. What a beautiful station we must have, when the prospect of a furlough in the West Indies—the very shrine of the demon of yellow fever—is hailed with such uproarious demonstrations. However, be it so; any change must be for the better, so I do from my heart congratulate you. But as for me, I suppose I am destined to kick about in the Midge here, between Cape Coast and Fernando Po, so long as we last. None of us, Sprawl, will cope with Methuselah, take my word for it."

The excellent fellow took his hand. "True enough, Lanyard. You say rightly, Richard Lanyard. I had forgotten you altogether; and now, regarding your own course, really I can give you no information whatever. However, here comes the commodore. Shall I ask him?"

"By no manner of means," said Lanyard, feeling a little thin-skinned after the late affair; "time enough when he speaks himself."

Sir Oliver approached. I cannot say that I now perceived any difference between his usual manner and his present bearing. He was, if any thing, kinder than ever, and his quizzical way of carrying on had returned on him in full force. He first addressed himself to Mr Sprawl.

"See all clear, Mr Sprawl, to bear up at noon." The first lieutenant bowed.

The master was standing about ten feet from us. "Mr Pumpbolt," said the commodore, "come down with me to the cabin, if you please." And forthwith he stumped aft, and was in act to descend, when Lanyard caught his eye. "Oh, I had forgotten.—Here, Mr Lanyard, if you please." Dick walked aft to him. "Mr Lanyard, I had at first intended to have left the tender with the Cerberus, but, on second thoughts, as I may require all the people on the voyage home, I have determined to take you with me. That is, if you think the craft capable of making tolerable weather of it."

Don Ricardo was near pitching his hat over the mizen peak, and shouting aloud for joy, but that "idol, ceremony," restrained him.

"Strong, sir! Here, Shavings,"—the carpenter's mate of the Gazelle, who had been promoted as a functionary of his in the Midge, and who had bested to come on board along with us, was passing forward at the moment—"Here, Shavings, Sir Oliver wants to know whether we consider the Midge capable of making the voyage from this to the West Indies; if we do not, we are to be left on the coast here."

"Come—come," said the commodore, laughing, "no leading, Mr Lanyard."

The lieutenant began to think he had gone a little too far; and feeling somewhat out, looked towards Shavings for relief. The old carpenter, however, was not so prompt as he calculated on. His honesty appeared more stubborn than suited him—until he repeated the words, slewing them a little to his own side, to suit the emergency. "Why, Mr Shavings, we are to be kept cruising about here, as tender to the Cerberus one day, and to Heaven knows who the next, while the Gazelle goes to the West Indies, and so round by Portsmouth, and all because the felucca is not considered sea-worthy, nor competent to the middle voyage."

"Oh," said Shavings, with a long drawl, "THAT is what you want to know, sir?" He then faced right round on Sir Oliver. "Why, sir, that 'ere little feluccre is as strong as well-seasoned Spanish oak and copper bolts can make her. The smell of the hold is so bad, sir, that we has to pump fresh water into her every morning watch to sweeten her, sir. Strong? if one half of her beams were sawn up into firewood, it would boil the frigate's coppers for a month; and the feluccre that is, Sir Oliver, would be swifter by half a knot, and none the weaker; and her bottom—oh, it is a perfect bed of timbers—why you might caulk them, sir; as for her bows, I believe they are strong enough for an ice-boat on the Neva; and such transomes—why, sir, I would rather be in her in a hurricane, than ere a fourty-four in the sarvice—were she even the old Gaz"——

Here the poor fellow saw he had in his zeal and desire to break away from this accursed coast, gone somewhat farther than he intended, so making his obeisance, he hauled off. Sir Oliver smiled.

"Well, well, Mr Lanyard, as I shall have occasion to call at Kingston, Jamaica, and afterwards proceed through the Gulf to Havanna, I will take you with me, and send you to Havanna direct—so go on board, and send me your supernumeraries. I suppose all the wounded are well enough to be moved now?"

"Yes, Sir Oliver," said Dick, "all but that poor devil, Lennox, the corporal of marines. He is again down with fever."

"Well, but he will be better cared for here—so send him on board with the rest—he is a very good man, and you know I must be marine officer myself, now since poor Howlet invalided"—(this was the lieutenant of marines)—"so send him with the rest."

"Why, Sir Oliver, the man is exceedingly willing, as we all know, but his stamina is gone entirely, and this he is himself aware of. Indeed this morning he preferred a request to me, which I know is against rule altogether; still, under correction, I promised to make it known to you."

"Out with it—what is it?"

"Simply this, sir—that you would allow him to act as my steward for the cruise, now since poor Jacobson is gone"——

"Why, it is against all rule, as you say, Mr Lanyard—but I see no great harm in it, if the poor devil be really unable to keep watch—so, at all events, keep him on board in the mean time. We shall bear up, and make sail at noon; and come on board to dinner, if you please, at three."

Old Dick returned with a joyous heart to the Midge—I accompanied him—Mr Marline was the officer of the watch.

"Send all the supernumeraries on board the Gazelle, Mr Marline, bag and baggage, will ye?"

"Ay, ay, sir," responded the master's mate, now acting master of the Midge—"shall we send the wounded, too, sir?"

"Yes, all hands of them." I went down to dress for dinner. When I came on deck again, the men were all ready with their bags, in their clean trowsers and frocks, and well-shaven chins, on the starboard side; while the wounded had crept on deck, and were ranged under the awning on the other.

They had all rallied astonishingly, but poor Lennox, who was miserably weak and ill—he looked as if he were dying. Little Joe Peak came up to the lieutenant, "Am I to go with them, sir?"—"Certainly." The wee mid looked disappointed—and made no answer. Presently he came up to him again, "The men ask if they may give you a cheer, sir."—"Heaven help us, no—no—we have had nothing to brag off, Master Peak—no—no."

But Dick twigged, on a moment's reflection, what the drift was.

"I say, steward, give the men who are going in the boat a glass of grog a-piece to drink my health." It was done, and the boat shoved off, and was returning for the wounded, when I happened to notice Lennox looking earnestly at me. "Bless me, Lennox, I have forgotten you entirely."

"Do you know if I am to go on board the frigate sir?" said the poor fellow, with a weak voice.

"No, Lennox, not unless you choose, I believe—the commodore has no objection to your acting as steward, agreeably to your wish, until you get strong; so you may remain, if you like."

"Thank you, sir."

I noticed the large tears roll down his cheeks as he turned his emaciated countenance to the ship's side and wept. I was mightily surprised at all this, and mentioned the circumstance to my worthy cousin, who did not seem to understand it either.

"What can you mean by this, my man? No sham sentimentality with me, my fine fellow."

"Oh no, sir—no—I am unused to kindness, sir, and weak enough, God knows; but really, in my present condition, I am unable to do my duty in the frigate."

"Well, has not Mr Brail told you you might stay if you choose?"

"Yes, thank you, sir—you don't know what a load you have taken from my heart, sir."

"What mean you, man—speak out—no humbugging. If you won't answer me—by the powers"—he approached the spot where he lay—the poor wasted lad had fainted. He now called the surgeon, who immediately saw there was no make-believe in the matter, so he had him taken below; and as time and tide wait for no man, we now returned to the frigate to dinner.

I had previously determined in my own mind, taking into account Sir Oliver's ailing condition, to remain in the Midge; more especially as she was bound direct to the port where my chief business lay, trusting to get down to Jamaica afterwards; so the first thing I did on reaching Gazelle, was to get the commodore's concurrence to the plan. I had some difficulty in obtaining this; but finally, after many good advices, he acquiesced; and we adjourned to the cabin.

Mr Garboard, who was by this time well enough to be out of his cot, and old Sprawl, along with one of the midshipmen, were, with Lanyard and myself, Sir Oliver's guests at dinner.

The thing went on very much as usual—the cloth had been drawn, and during a pause in the conversation, I asked Sir Oliver "If he knew any thing of Lennox?"

"What—the corporal of marines? Why, no—I don't know much about him, Mr Brail,—how should I?" said he, smiling.

"I did not expect that you would, Sir Oliver," replied I, taken a little aback; "but he is certainly a very odd creature." The commodore here rang his bell.

"Gascoigne, send the Serjeant of marines here."

"Which, Sir Oliver," said the man—"Sergeant Lorimer, or Pigot, sir?"

"Send Serjeant Lorimer here."

The soldier, in his white jacket and trowsers, black cross belts, round hat, with a white tape band round it, and white cords, or lanyards on each side, fastening the brims up to the crown, like tiny shrouds, appeared at the door; and facing us, made his salute, as stiff as a poker, putting his hand up to his hat-brim, and swaying about in the narrow door-way, like a statue on a ball and socket.

"Lorimer," said Sir Oliver, "what do you know of Lennox—corporal Lennox?"

"Anan!" said the Serjeant, not comprehending the question; "beg pardon, sir, what is your pleasure?"

"Why," said the choleric commodore—"what know ye of Lennox, you numbscull, the marine who is left sick on board of the Midge—where and when did you pick him up?"

"Oh, beg pardon," said the man—"why, Sir Oliver, he enlisted at the depot at Portsmouth about twelve months ago. He had come round in some Scotch steam-boat, and he was then one of the handsomest-looking young chaps I ever se'ed, Sir Oliver; but he seemed always to feel as if the country was too hot to hold him, for he volunteered three times for rather badish frigates, before we were drafted for Gazelle, when you commissioned her. In the small affairs we have had under your honour's eye he has always, when in health, been a most desperate fellow. He seemed to value his life no more as a quid of tobacco—lately he has become a leetle more circumspect, but he is terribly fallen off in bodily health, sir."

"How came he to be made corporal so soon after joining?" said I.

"Easy, sir. He came under my hands at drill; but I found the first day, that the poor fellow, Scotchman though he was, knowed more of his trade than I did myself, sir—and as I hope I never bears malice nor envy against nobody, I could not help advertising Lieutenant Howlett, that as he wanted a corporal no man was more fitterer for that same than Lennox, and so he made him corporal; and if your honour wants any penmanship done, now since your clerk is laid up, ne'er a man in the ship, always barring my superiors," here he again touched his cap, "can write running hand like Jack, poor fellow,—and as to spelling—oh my eye."

"Well—well," said Sir Oliver—"but what is his general character?"

"The steadiest man in the ship, when on duty, Sir Oliver—marine or able. He never missed muster in his life. I never saw him drunk or dirty—the only fault I ever had to him is, that sometimes when the men should have been airing themselves in their best on a Sunday forenoon, he has been known to keep them below until eight bells were fine run—extorting them out of the Bible, Sir Oliver."

"Nothing more?" said Sprawl.

"Yes, he sometimes gives all his grog to his messmates for a week at a time, whereby Bill Swig once caught it at the gangway, your honour—and he does gammon in some foreign tongues, now and then, as if he really and truly had at one time or another been somebody, Sir Oliver."

"You say he is a good steady man on duty, Lorimer," quoth Sir Oliver—"what may there be peculiar about him, when below?"

The Serjeant smiled, and fidgetted about, but seeing his captain waited for him to speak—"Oh, I don't know, Sir Oliver, but he has a many vagaries, and dreams dreams, Sir Oliver—and fancies he sees sights—and speaks the damnedest nonsense—beg pardon, Sir Oliver—in his sleep." The commodore laughed, and touched his forehead knowingly with his forefinger.

"Your honour has hit it," said the man, laughing.

"And is this all you know of him?"

"All and whole entirely, Sir Oliver."

"Very well—here"——

The commodore had filled a very sufficing tumbler of grog, and handed it to the Serjeant of marines. The man now unbent, stept into the cabin—wiped his mouth with the back of his large brown paw, and then, looking as sheepish as need be, seized the tumbler in his right hand—"Sir Oliver—and gentlemen all"—and swigging it off, he once more raised his hand to the brim of his chapeau—turned round on his heels, and marched out of the cabin.

About six in the evening, I returned on board the Midge, which had hove to, so soon as she noticed the frigate do so. As soon as we got on deck, and the boat was hoisted up, Lanyard desired the gunner, who had the watch, to bear up again in the wake of the commodore, for whom he was to keep a bright look out.

For a week we had beautiful weather, although the wind continued very light, so that we had almost daily communication with the frigate, and had the happiness of seeing even poor Donovan on deck again. As we widened our distance from the abominable coast, all hands seemed to improve astonishingly, so that by the seventh day after we had taken our departure, there was not a sick man in the ship.

The weather had during all this time been invariably fine, but on this Sunday evening, it had become very much overcast right a-head. Sir Oliver had in the forenoon, at Lanyard's and the youngster's own request, spared him Mister Peak, the midshipman already mentioned, a very wicked little Irish rascal, but a nice boy notwithstanding. He now stood beside me on the felucca's deck.

"A very heavy bank that, sir, right a-head as we are steering," said little Joey.

"Very," said I—"but I don't think there is any wind in it, Mr Peak."

Gradually the dark clouds rose up and up, until they reached the zenith—we appeared to be entering into a gigantic black arch—under whose dark shade the frigate, about a mile on our lee bow, had already slid and become undistinguishable.

The breeze was now very light—sufficient to keep the sails sleeping, and no more. Dennis Donovan, who had that morning paid us a visit, to try whether change of discomforts might not benefit his health, and I were standing together, leaning our arms on the drum of the capstan, and looking out to windward, endeavouring to detect any indication in the dark sky as to the sort of weather we might expect. I was solacing myself with my cheroot, and Donovan was chewing his cud—quid I mean—when I thought I heard something in the air. "Hush! do you hear nothing?" He suspended his mastication, and I took my cigar out of my mouth, and listened all ear—Dennis all mouth—for I could see, dark as it was, that he gaped, as if he expected to catch the sound by the tail in his teeth. "Again—there!"—a faint distant strain of solemn music seemed now to float over head on the gentle night wind, in a low melancholy liquid cadence—increasing like the swell of an Æolian harp, and gradually dying away again, until nothing but the small rushing of the felucca through the water was heard. Startled as I was, still

"It came o'er my soul, like the sweet south,
Soft breathing o'er a bed of violets."

"Benjamin Brail!" quoth the Irishman.

"Dennis Donovan!" said I.

And there we stood staring at each other as if we had seen a ghost.

"Pray, Mr Peak," said old Dogvane, the quartermaster (in the small vessel it was a difficult thing to avoid being an eavesdropper sometimes), "what do you think of that?"

"Poo," rejoined little Peak, "the devil, I suppose, is busy aloft."

"He don't often sing psalms on a Sunday evening, does he, Mr Peak?" rejoined old Dogvane.

The midshipman laughed.

"Ay, you may laugh, Mr. Peak—you may laugh—but I don't like them kind of sounds thereaway; and mark my words, Master Peak, we shall either have a gale of wind within eight and forty hours"——

"Or no," rejoined Joey.

"I say, Donovan, that can't be the band on board the frigate?" said Lanyard, who now joined us. His senior laughed outright. "Band—band—why, they might give you a regular rumpti tumpti, Dick—but such a piece of sacred music as that was, is altogether out of their line—besides, it was vocal, man—it was vocal."

The weather astern of us was as yet perfectly clear, but gradually the thickest of the pitchy curtain lifted from the horizon on our weather beam, suddenly disclosing the cold, blue star-light sky—which, gradually brightening, with a greenish radiance, gave token that the moon was not far below the horizon, against which the tossings of the dark waves were seen distinctly.

"Hillo!—who have we here?" said I, as the black sails and lofty spars of a large vessel, diminished by distance into a child's toy, were hove up out of the darkness into the clear, in strong relief against the increasing light of the lovely background, rolling slowly on the bosom of the dark swell, and then disappearing, as if she had slid down the watery mountain into the abyss whereout she had emerged. Presently the object appeared again; and this time, by the aid of my glass, I made out a stately vessel, gracefully rising and falling on the ever-heaving waters.

Anon, the bright planet, the halo round whose forehead had already lit up the clearing east, emerged, all pure and fresh, from the dark sea, and floated on the horizon like a crystal globe, shedding a long stream of trembling light on the sparkling and tumbling waves. Mr Peak at this instant called out from forward——

"The commodore is showing lights, sir."

"Very well—what are they?"

It was the night signal for a strange sail in the north-east.

"Answer it—but mind you keep the lanterns under the lee of the sail, so that our friend to windward may not see them."

It was done—and I again looked in the direction where we had seen the stranger, but she had suddenly become invisible—the dazzling of the dancing moonbeams on the water preventing our seeing her.

"She must be right in the wake of the moon, sir," quoth Mr Marline; "I cannot make her out now at all."

"Very well," said Lanyard again—"but the shine that makes her invisible to us will indicate our whereabouts surely enough to her, for it is glancing directly on our white sails."

I had in my time learned a bucaniering trick or two.—"How thought you she was standing when you saw her last—when you was busy with the commodore's lights?" said I.

"Right down for us, sir."

"Then, Dick, my beauty, if you will take my advice, you will lower away the yard, and haul down the jib."

The suggestion was taken, and we were soon rocking on the dark billows, with our solitary mast naked as a blasted pine.

As I expected, to any one looking at us from windward, we must have become invisible, against the heavy bank of black clouds down to leeward; and, in corroboration of this, the strange vessel gradually emerged from out the silvery dazzle, and glided majestically down the glorious flow of bright moonlight, standing right for us, evidently unaware of our vicinity. She was not steered so steadily, but that I could perceive she was a ship, sailing dead before it with all sail set to woo the faint breeze; royals, sky-sails, and studding-sails aloft and alow. Presently it freshened a bit, and she took in her light and steering-sails—she was now about two miles from us.

The sight was beautiful; and while some of the people were keeping a bright look-out for the commodore down to leeward, the rest of the crew were gazing out to windward at the approaching vessel. I had at no time from the first thought she was a man-of-war, her sails and yards being by no means square enough; but if I had hesitated at all in the matter, the slow and awkward way in which she shortened sail, must have left no doubt of the fact on my mind.

"There—there again—what can that be?" said I involuntarily.

"Hillo," sung out several of the crew forward, "hear you that, messmate—hear you that?"

A low, still, most heavenly melody again floated down to us, but louder than before, and died meltingly away as the breeze fell, until it once more became inaudible. Since we had discarded the frigate from our thoughts, the ship to windward was now of course the only quarter from whence the sounds could proceed. I listened again—but all was still—presently the dark outlines of the sails of the approaching vessel became clearer. There was now a long pause, and you might have heard a pin drop on deck, when the solemn strain once more gushed forth high into the pure heavens. We all listened with the most intense attention. It was the hundredth Psalm—and I could now distinguish the blending of male and female voices in the choir—presently the sound sank again, and gradually died away altogether.

Corporal Lennox was standing near me, indeed so close, that I could not help overhearing what passed between him and one of the quartermasters.

"I say, Peter," quoth the soldier, "did you ever read about the Covenanters?"

"Anan?" quod Peter.

"Have you never read about the Covenanters, my man?"

"Can't say as I have—what ship did they belong to? they must have been brothers, I suppose—stop—eh!—let me think—why I did know one of that name in the water-guard at"——

"Oh man, Peter, you are an unenlightened creature—amaist as much so as the brutes that perish—I hope there may not be much expected o' ye at the great muster, Peter, when the archangel shall be boatswain's mate, and all hands shall be piped to answer for their deeds done in the body—yea, when the grey moss-grown grave-stone shall no longer shield the sinner from the glance of the Almighty—I hae a regard for ye though, notwithstanding—but ye'll forgive me if I say yeer but a puir brute at the best, Peter."

"Why, Master Lennox," retorted Peter, "I have borne more from you, my fine fellow, than I thought I could have done from ere a messmate I have ever had, for you have done me more than one sarvice—but"——

"Service, man—wi' yeer sarvice! will ye neer gie ower miscaaing his Majestie's English? But weel a weel, and it may not be the last I will render ye, so nae mair about it, man; I meant nae offence,—and to say sooth, my mind was away among the hill-folk, the puir persecuted remnant whereof my great-grandfather was an unworthy member; and mony a weary nicht did he skirl up the Psalms on the wet hillside, before he was exalted, with the cauld spongy fog[[1]] for a mattrass, and a damp rash bush for a pillow."

[[1]] Moss.

"Ho, ho!" chuckled Peter at this; "you are always gammoning about old stories, and book-larning; but I have you now, Master Lennox;—your great-grandfather was exalted, was he?—that is hanged, I suppose?"

I was a good deal tickled at this, and listened, in spite of myself, to hear how my Scotch friend would brook this insinuation.

Lennox replied, quite calmly—"He was hanged."

"Ha! ha! I have you on the hip now, my master," shouted Peter.

"Indeed, man, you are a coorse-minded animal," responded the corporal. "I spoke in yae sense metaphorically, and alluded to his reward in Heaven—where I have nae doubt he went—but leeterally, I will no deny, in another; for he was in verity hanged by that villain Lauderdale in the Lawnmarket, and sang this very hundredth Psalm, that you have heard raised on board that vessel, at the"——

"What, the whole of it?" interrupted honest Peter.

"Ay, the whole of it, from stem to stern, on the scaffold."

Here poor Lennox's voice fell a little, so that honest Peter, thinking that the disclosure of his great-grandfather's exaltation, which, in his innocence, he considered he had cleverly wrung from him, was giving him pain, sung out, in what was meant for a consolatory tone—"Never mind, Lennox, man—don't mind; better men have been hanged than your grandfather;—but what was it for, man?"—his curiosity combating with his kindly feelings—"I dare say something the poor fellow had done in his drink; some unfortunate blow or thrust that rid the world of a vagabond; or a little bit of forgetfulness in signing another man's name for his own, eh?"

"Why, freend Peter," chimed in Lennox, "since ye crack sae croose—wha may yeer great-grandfather hae been?—tell me that."

Peter was rather caught. He twisted himself about. "My father I know—I am sure I had a father,—and a grandfather too, I suppose; but as to a great-grandfather"——

"I say, Peter, my man, 'never cudgel yeer brains about it,' as Shakspeare hath it; and never again disparage a man wha can authentically show that he had a great-grandfather, even although he had the misfortune to be hanged, until ye can honestly tell whether ye ever had a grandfather or no at all. But none of these brought him to his end, noo since ye maun ken."

"Well, well, I hope it was not for stealing," said honest Peter, bearing no malice; "that's a low vice, you knows, Lennox."

"It was not," said the corporal, energetically—"No, it was because he worshipped God according to his conscience, and refused to bow down before"——

"The strange sail is keeping away, sir, and will go a-head of us, if we don't bear up," sung out Mr Marline from forward.

She was now within a mile of us, or less, rolling heavily on the long black swell. It was once more almost calm.

"Hoist away the sail again," said Lanyard, "and let us overhaul her."

As the white canvass spread out high into the night air, on the long elastic yard, the clear moon shone brightly on it. We became instantly visible to those in the ship; for we could see there was a bustle on board, and heard the sound of pulling and hauling, and the rattling of the cordage: the blocks and gear squeaking, and the yards cheeping against the masts, as they were being braced round. They were making more sail, as if desirous of eschewing our company. We stood on, and presently fired a gun across her bows, as a hint to heave-to; but, in place of its being taken, it was promptly returned; the shot whistling over our masthead.

"Hey-day, Mr Wadding, you had better open the magazine, if this is to be the way of it," said Mr Lanyard; "and beat to quarters, Mr Marline, if you please."

"Surely a craft manned by parsons, or singing men and women, don't mean to fight?" said little Joe Peak to Mr Marline.

"Hush, Joe, will ye," quoth his senior; "don't you see the captain is on deck? But, entre nous, my lad, if this Psalm-singing don't stir up a gale of wind by four-and-twenty hours from this, I shall be exceedingly surprised."

"Poo, poo; you have been taking a leaf out of Dogvane's book," quoth Joey.

All seamen, it is well known, have a great repugnance to sail with a parson on board—that is, if he be a tortoise, or stray land parson. As for the regular chaplain—Lord love you, he is altogether another kind of affair—being his Majesty's officer in one sense.

When we had again made sail, our friend Peter set to Lennox once more—"You are above them things, I knows, Lennox; but I thinks along with Mr Peak there, that these Psalm-singing folks will bring us bad weather, as sure as a gun."

"Hoot, nonsense, mony a skart has skirled, and naething followed. Peter, ye're a superstitious fule; now, why should a clergyman being on board prove a bad omen? Why should a storm arise because a priest is part of the cargo?"

"Oh!" persisted Peter, "it depends on the kind of character he may have. If he is no better than he should be, why I don't care if we shipped a dozen on 'em, but a real vartuous clergyman is a very dangerous subject to the barky and all on board, take Peter Quid's word for it."

"Ay, indeed?" said Lennox—"and the greater rogue the greater safety—the more excellent his character the greater danger?"

"Just so," quoth Callaghan, the Irishman whose tobacco had so plagued him when he was wounded; and who now came on deck with his head tied up, to see the fun, and lest he "should miss any fighting," as he said; "and I'll give you a sufficing rason why it should be so. You sees, ould Davie, I don't mean Mr Sprawl, is always on the look-out for betterer sowls, as it were—why, he cares no more than a frosted potato for such poor devils—such sure bargains as Jack Lennox and me, now"——

"Speak for yourself, friend Callaghan," rejoined the corporal.

"And so I do, to be sure; and you being a friend, I am willing to spake for ye too, ye spalpeen; so be asy—as I was saying, he can have bushelsful such as we, whenever he chooses, as regular as we gets our own grog and grub. We are his every-day meals;—but when he can catch a parson—ah—he puts himself to some trouble to catch a parson; and so, you see, if you have not a regular snifter before to-morrow night, may I,"——

"Silence there," sung out Lanyard, not quite satisfied apparently with having so long played the eavesdropper. "Silence, and go to stations, will ye?"

Every thing again relapsed into its former calm; the vessel approached; and to prevent her crossing our forefoot, as she came down within pistol shot, we edged away, and finally bore up almost alongside of her.

"Ho—the ship, a-hoy!"

"Hillo!"

"What ship is that?"

This was answered Scotch fashion—"What felucca is that?"

Lanyard did not choose to stand on ceremony, so to save bother, he replied, "The tender to his Britannic Majesty's ship Gazelle. So heave-to, and I will send a boat on board of you."

The strange sail, however, kept all fast, and stood steadily on his course.

"If you don't shorten sail, and round-to, I will fire into you?"

Another long pause.—Dick's patience was fast evaporating; and, "All ready with the gun, there?" was already on his tongue, when the stranger again hailed.

"What ship is that down to leeward, there?"

"The Gazelle," was the answer.

The skipper now saw that, whether we were honest or not, he had no chance of escape, especially as he perceived that the Midge sailed nearly two feet for his one; so he immediately shortened sail and hove-to, and the next minute saw Señor Ricardo and my beautiful self, all by way of a lark, alongside. When we got on deck, we found the ship in a regular bustle—three carronades had been cast loose, round which the scanty crew, mustering some thirty hands, were clustered; but oh, the labyrinth of slack ropes, and the confusion altogether, and the ill-trimmed sails, and the danger to the shins from misplaced wadding tubs, stray spunges and rammers; not to forget the vagaries of three or four twelve-pound shot, that had fetched way, and were pursuing their devious courses at every roll, across and athwart, forward and back again.

Two stout-looking young fellows, with drawn cutlasses, had stationed themselves at each side of the gangway as we entered.

"Why didn't you heave-to, sir, at once?"

"Because, sir," said the master of the vessel, whom Lanyard had addressed, "I had serious suspicions as to who or what you were. I now see I was mistaken; and a sure proof that I was so, you appear not to have taken offence at my incredulity, in the first instance."

"Well—well," said the lieutenant, "what ship is this?"

"The Hermes, bound for the Cape of Good Hope, with an assorted cargo. Will you please step below, and look at my papers, sir?"

We descended, and on finding myself in the cabin, I was somewhat startled to perceive that the two men who had done us the honour to receive us with naked weapons at the side, had followed us below. The eldest and tallest of the two was about thirty, as near as I could judge; a dark, sunburned, very powerful man, with a determined, but not unpleasing expression. The other was nearly as tall, but slighter, and of a very pale complexion. Both were dressed in white trowsers and check shirts, without any other garment whatever. Who they were I could not divine. They were not seamen, I at once made out.

"Oh, passengers, I suppose."

I was much struck with the very handsome figure of the master of the vessel, who sat down directly opposite me.

There was a lamp burning brightly overhead, that hung down between us over the table, which cast a strong light on his face and figure.

He might have been fifty years of age; very bald, but what little hair he had, curled short and crisp over his ears, as black as jet, as were his eyebrows and whiskers, without the blemish of one single grey hair. He was dressed in white trowsers, a check shirt, and blue jacket. His features were remarkably fine; teeth good; eyes dark and sparkling; and a forehead high and broad.

The cabin appeared to be exceedingly comfortably, without being gaudily furnished; and there were several shawls, and sundry miscellaneous gloves and bonnets lying about the lockers, indicating that there must be lady passengers on board.

We found all the papers right, so far as the cargo went, and then glanced at the list of the passengers. There was the Reverend William This, and the Reverend James That, and the Reverend Thomas Such-a-Thing; and Mrs So-and-so, and Mrs Thingamy.

"I see you are busy with the list of my passengers;—but won't you take a little wine and water, sir?"

I bowed, and the steward immediately placed wine and glasses, and some biscuit, on the table.

"They are missionaries, sir, for the back settlements at the Cape. Moravians, I believe, you call the sect they belong to; but I care little for the denomination which their peculiar tenets have acquired for them, so long as I can say this, that a more amiable set of people I never have come across, sir; and, man and boy, I have been to sea in passenger-carrying merchant craft for six-and-thirty years."

The lieutenant now, at his request, gave the correct latitude; when, finding himself farther to the eastward than he expected, he asked leave to keep company with us for a couple of days, as a protection against the visits of the contraband traders. Having got the course we were steering, which, he said, would suit, although a little too westerly for him, we rose to depart, and wished the skipper good-night.

"It is dead calm now, sir," said he; "possibly you will do me the favour to allow me to introduce you to my family, as I call my Moravian friends. They are all at tea, I believe, in the round-house, on deck."

As I stepped off the ladder, I saw that he was right, that it was, in fact, quite calm; and there was the little Midge, close to, with her long taper yard wallopping about, and the sail giving a floundering flap every now and then, as she rolled about on the heave of the sea.

"Mr Marline" (we were so near that there was no use for a speaking-trumpet), "keep close to, if you please—I will be on board presently."

"Ay, ay, sir."

Lanyard then turned to mine host, and followed him towards the round-house, which was built on deck, with a gangway all round it, along which the tiller ropes led; the wheel being situated under the small projecting canopy facing the quarterdeck.

All had been dark when we came on deck—the only light being the one in the binnacle, but now the round-house was very handsomely lit up by two lamps hung from the roof, which shone brilliantly through the open door and the two windows that looked towards the quarterdeck. The wheel, with the sailor who was steering standing by it, was right in the wake of the stream of light from the door. It was striking to see his athletic figure, leaning on the rim of the wheel, his right hand grasping one of the lower spokes, while the left clutched the uppermost, on which his cheek rested; the jerk of the rudder in the calm twitching his head first on this side, then on t'other.

But the scene within—I shall never forget it. The round-house was a room, as near as might be, sixteen feet long, and about fourteen feet broad at the end next the quarterdeck, narrowing to ten feet wide at the aftermost part. On each side there were two sofas, and between each of the sofas two doors, that appeared to open into state-rooms;—two shorter sofas ran across the afterpart, fronting you as you entered; and placed between these two aftermost sofas, there was a neat brass cabin grate, now tastefully filled with a bouquet of artificial flowers. In the centre of the cabin there was a long table, on which stood a tea equipage, the grateful vapour whirling up from a massive tea-pot.

A venerable-looking old man, dressed in a large grey frieze night-gown, with a large velvet cap on his head, from beneath which long white locks escaped and spread over his shoulders, sat directly fronting the door on one of the sofas that ran athwart ships.

He had been reading apparently in a large Bible, that now lay closed before him, with one of his elbows resting on it, and on which his spectacles lay. I had never seen a more benign eye, and his serene high features, whose healthy hue betokened a green old age, were lit up into the most bland and beneficent expression, as with lips apart, disclosing a regular set of teeth, he smiled on a darling little half-naked cherub of a child about two years and a half old, that sat on the table beside him, playing with his white hairs.

He was a lovely little chubby fellow; a most beautiful fair-skinned and fair-haired boy, with no clothing on but a short cambric shift, bound at the waist with a small pink silk handkerchief. His round fat little arms, and little stumpy legs, were entirely naked; even shoes he had none, and in his tumblifications he seemed utterly to have forgotten that he had no drawers on. But the glorious little fellow's head!—his glossy short curling fair hair, that frizzled out all round his head as if it had been a golden halo floating over his sunny features—his noble, wide spreading forehead—his dark blue laughing eyes—his red ripe cheeks, and beautiful mouth, with the glancing ivory within!—Oh, I should weary all hands were I to dilate on the darling little fellow's appearance; for, next to a horse or a Newfoundland dog, I dote on a beautiful child. "Shall I ever have such a magnificent little chap?" burst from my lips against my will. "I hope you may, sir," said a calm, low-pitched female voice, close to me.

The soft musical sounds startled me more, under the circumstances, than a trumpet note would have done. I turned to the quarter from whence they proceeded, and saw two young women seated on one of the sofas at the side. The eldest might have been about five-and-twenty; she was very fair—I ought rather to write pale, all mouth and eyes as it were—I mean no disparagement, because the features were good, but only to convey the impression of them on my mind at the time. Her skin seemed so transparent, that the blue veins were traceable in all directions over her bosom and neck and forehead; while her nose was a little—not red—but fresh looking, as if she had been weeping, which she had not been. A fine mouth, forehead, and strong well-defined dark eyebrows, over-arching such eyes!—black, jet black, and flashing through their long dark fringes.

Oh, what a redeeming virtue there is in a large swimming dark eye—black, if you please, for choice—hazle, if black cannot be had, for effect; but for love! heavens, and all the heathen gods and goddesses, give me the deep deep ethereal blue—such blue, so darkly pure, as you might cut out of the noon-day sky within the tropics, about a pistol-shot from the gaudy sun, which must be at the moment eclipsed by a stray cloud, had up from the depths of old ocean expressly for the nonce. One can look into the very soul of such a woman with such an eye;—ay, and tell whether or no your own beautiful miniature be painted on the retina of her heart—that's a bull, I conceive, but my mother's Kilkenny blood will peep forth in despite, now and then; but your dark fine-flashing black sparklers—oh, Diable! they look into you, my fine fellow, instead of your spying into them, which is sometimes mighty inconvenient; and then the humbug of the "eye of the gazelle!" His lordship's gazelle blinker, so soft and yielding, and all the rest of it!—poo, I would rather that my wife, Mrs Benjie Brail, when I get her, had a glass eye; a regular pair of prisms from old Dolland's in St Paul's Churchyard, than the gazelle eye of his lordship's favourites—such an eye would not long have glowered out of the head of an honest woman, take my word for it.

Where have I got to? where the deuce left I off? Oh—the beautiful eyes of the fair person, whose sweet voice had startled me. Her hair, dark and shining, was shaded off her forehead Madona-like; and she wore a most becoming, but very plain white muslin cap, with two little lace straps, that hung down loose on each side of her face, like the scale defences attached to the helmets of the French grenadiers à cheval. Heaven help me with my similes, a beautiful demure woman, and a horse grenadier! She was dressed in a plain black silk gown, over which she wore a neatly embroidered white apron; but from the ostentatious puffing out of the white cambric handkerchief that she held in her fair clasped hands, with their blue meandering veins, I perceived, if she were the mother of the beautiful boy—and here the murder of my description is out at last—that a second edition of him was printed off, and nearly ready for publication.

But the figure that sat next her instantly riveted my attention. She was a tall sylph-like girl of nineteen or thereabouts, with laughing features, not so perfect as the elder female's, to whom she bore a striking resemblance, and long flowing ringlets, that wandered all over her snow-white neck and bosom, disdaining even the control of a ribbon or band of any kind. She was dressed in some grey homespun looking stuff, but neither of the ladies wore any, the smallest ornament whatever.

"Is that your child, madam?" said I, to the eldest female. It was—and the patriarchal old man, with true natural good breeding, at once broke the ice.

"The eldest of these ladies, sir, is my daughter—the youngest is my niece and daughter-in-law."

I made my respective bows.

"This gentleman is my son-in-law and nephew, and this is my son."

He here turned to the two young men, who were by this time rigged in the same kind of coarse woollen frocks that their ancient wore—they had followed us into the round-house, but quiet and sober as they now seemed, I could not dismiss from my recollection the demonstration they had made when we first came on board. Then they seemed pugnacious enough, and by no means such men as would, when smitten on one cheek, have calmly turned the other to the smiter. They appeared sensible, strong-minded persons from their conversation; not very polished, but apparently very sincere. Dick and the skipper being by this time knee deep in nauticals, the old man addressed me.

"You see, sir, since it has pleased the Almighty that we should be outcasts from the homes of our fathers, still, like the patriarchs of old, we have not gone solitarily forth. But tea is ready, I see; will you be seated, sir? Captain Purves, can you prevail on him to be seated?"

The meal went on pretty much as usual—the contrast to me, between my present position and late mode of life, was very great. To find myself thus unexpectedly in a family circle, after more than six months of continual turmoil and excitement, bewildered me, and at the same time softened my heart; and the ancient feelings of my boyhood—the thousand old kindly reminiscences of my own house and home began to bud like flowers in a hot-bed. When I looked on the calm contented virtuous group around me, and reflected that one short half hour was to separate us for ever, I could have wept—a womanly melting of the heart came over me, so that I could scarcely speak.

"Will you go with us, sir?"—said at length the beautiful boy, gradually edging across the table, until the darling little fellow slid into my lap with his little plump legs.

"No, my dear boy, I cannot go with you—but heaven bless you, my beautiful child—bless you,"—and I kissed his little downy peach-like cheek.

"You are very sorry to leave me," said the urchin.

"Why, my little man," while an indescribable feeling crept over me, "how do you think so?"

"Because I see one big tear in your eye—ah, dere—him pop down, like hot water, on my hand—oh! you must either have been bad boy dis morning, or you are crying because you are going to leave me."

I blushed to the eyes at this womanish weakness having been detected by the little innocent.

The calm still continued, but time wore on—and anxious to get back again, we rose—"A pleasant voyage to you, captain."

"Thank you, sir."

I looked at the old man who sat opposite—"I also wish you and yours a good voyage, sir,"—and I held out my hand—he shook it cordially.

"May God bless you, sir,"—and then turning to the lieutenant—"I respect your service, sir, but I have seen some roughness among young officers too, when the ships in which I have sailed, in my several voyages, have been boarded by men-of-war's boats; therefore your gentleness has been more grateful."

Don Ricardo bowed.

Willing to protract the pleasure of being in such society as long as I decently could, I remained standing.

"The night is calm," continued the old man, "and Captain Purves says your vessel is close to us; will you not sit down, and give us the pleasure of your company a little longer? We are so recently from England, that we may be able to give you some news that may be gratifying." We did so, and the captain ordered wine and water in. By this time the little boy, who had been playing with the handle of my sword, for I must needs be rigged boarder-fashion, and looking up and prattling in my face, fell fast asleep on my knee, when his mother placed him on the sofa. The conversation went round, the young men opened, and soon convinced me that they were exceedingly well-informed, and quite up with the enlightenment of the age; while both the ladies in their calm quiet way, especially the young matronly female, evinced a fixedness of purpose, and a determination to persevere in their desolate pilgrimage, with a perfect knowledge of its privations—indeed, I may write dangers, that I could not have believed possible in tender women. I have seldom spent a couple of hours more pleasantly; the conversation turning chiefly on recent occurrences in England. At length, the old man said—"You have been already informed by the captain, that we are missionaries bound for the Cape. My son-in-law and my daughter have been backwards and forwards twice, and know from personal experience the extent of the sacrifice they make in devoting themselves to the good work. My son there, and my niece, to whom he has lately been married, have never been to the station before, but they are fully aware of all that they may be called on to suffer—as for me, I am now going back to my tent in the wilderness—to utter banishment from all the elegances and comforts of civilized life, and with small prospect of ever revisiting the land of my fathers again. But I shall be buried beside my wife, under the same orange-tree, where she rests from her labours, after having been my helpmate, and, under God, my greatest earthly comfort, during my ministry amongst the heathen, for fifteen long years. Yes, heaven knows, my cup of sorrow, when she fell asleep, was full to overflowing—for upwards of six months all was quiet in the settlement—upwards of fifty families had domiciled themselves within our enclosure; and having mastered the native dialects, we had great hopes of making rapid progress, in not only enlightening the poor creatures by whom we were surrounded as to the things concerning their everlasting welfare, but in inducing them to adopt many of our civilized customs: for the care they had seen us bestow on the cultivation of the soil, and the success that had crowned our labours, seemed to have made a deep impression. I had left every thing quiet and peaceable, one afternoon, to look at some springes that I had set for wildfowl, when I was alarmed by a loud shouting in the direction of the station. I ran back, and found the very savages, who had, as we thought, become attached to us, and had dwelt for so long amongst us, in the act of rifling our barn, and carrying off the grain. My nephew and three other young missionaries were doing all they could to prevent it. On being joined by me, we were compelled to have recourse to our fire-arms, and eventually, after wounding one or two of our deluded assailants, succeeded in clearing the enclosure of them. But my poor wife's nerves—she had been ailing for many months—had received so severe a shock, that she never held her head up afterwards—she died within the week."

"And after all that you have suffered—do you still persist in returning?" said I. "What a sacrifice! I can scarcely conceive any case where so great a one is called for."

He cut me short—

"Young man—notwithstanding all I have told you, which yet falls short of the reality, I go on my way rejoicing—I may be called an enthusiast, and I may be an enthusiast, but I have made my election; and although I am but as the voice of one crying in the wilderness—although as yet our ministry amongst the poor benighted beings amongst whom our lot is cast, has been but as water spilt upon the barren sand, still, with the entire consciousness of the value of what I forego, I cheerfully sacrifice all the usual objects of man's ambition, and obey what I know to be the call of the Almighty, for it is borne in on my heart, and go forth, me and mine, come what may, to preach glad tidings of great joy to those who dwell in darkness; in the perfect conviction that, if we miss our reward here, we shall assuredly find it hereafter."

I know that missionaries of all classes have had their sincerity called in question, and there may be hypocrites amongst them as well as other men; but I would ask this simple question—what stronger attestation, speaking of them in the general, can they give to the purity of their intentions, than by thus devoting themselves, mind, body, and estate, to the service of their Great Master, in the fearless way in which they do? No man is a stauncher friend to the Church, as by law established, than I am, nor has a more thorough detestation of cant, in all its shades and stages, than I have; and I remember gloating over some savage articles in the Edinburgh Review, in its palmy days, when that needle of a body, wee Jeffrey, was at his best, wherein a cargo of poor missionaries were scarified most awfully; but experience and years have brought thought and reflection with them, as they often do to ancient maidens, who at forty, loup like a cock at a grosart (another bull) at the homo they turned up their lovely noses at at twenty; and before I would now hold these self-devoted men in contempt, or disparage their zeal, or brand them as illiterate hypocrites, I shall wait until I see the wealthier, and more learned of our divines, gird themselves for their forty years' pilgrimage in the wilderness, with equal calmness and Christian courage, and go up in the glorious panoply of the apostle which is so often in their mouths, amidst their silken pulpit cushions, to grapple with the fierce passions and prejudices of the naked savage, and encounter the numberless perils of the desert, with the resolution and single-mindedness of these despised Moravians. As to hypocrisy—all hypocrites aim at the attainment of some worldly advantage, because they know they cannot deceive God; but I would ask their fiercest defamers, what temporal blessing blossoms around their dry and sandy path, or within the whole scope of their dreary horizon, that they could not have compassed in tenfold exuberance at home, even as respectable trades-people? And as to their being enthusiasts, that is easily settled; no man can thrust himself permanently forth from the surface of society, for good or for evil, without being an enthusiast of some kind or another—at least this is the creed of Benjie Brail.

"Madam," said I to the youngest female, "you have never been to those countries—to the station, as your father calls it? I know you have never yet been exposed to its privations?" I noticed her husband smile, and nod to her, as much as to say, "Tell him."

"No," said she—"it cannot, however, be worse than I have painted it to myself, from his description"—looking across at the old gentleman with an affectionate smile—"But I hope I shall be strengthened, as my cousin has been, to endure my privations, and whatever may befall, as becomes a Christian, and the wife of a sincere one."

I was told by the captain, that the greater part of his cargo consisted of implements of husbandry; and that to their heavenly calling they had added that of a competent knowledge of all the useful arts of agriculture; so that, wherever such a virtuous family was planted, the savages who surrounded them would not only have their mental darkness dispelled, but their temporal condition improved, and their wants more amply supplied. We had now no farther apology for remaining. I rose; the clash of my cutlass against the chair awoke the sleeping child. He opened his blue eyes where he lay on the sofa, and looked up; presently he stretched forth his little hands towards me—I stooped down over the blessed infant, and kissed his forehead.

"Good-night," he said, "good-night, and be good boy like me."—A tear stood in my eye, for the soul of me, I could not have helped it.

I again shook hands with the old man. And as I was turning to take my leave of the other members of this most interesting family, he placed his hands on my head.

"Young man, we thank you for your visit, and your urbanity—our meeting has been like an oasis in the desert, like a green spot in a dry parched land—and we shall pray for thee to Him 'whose way is in the sea, and whose path is in the waters, and whose footsteps are not known.'"

I had no heart to speak—so after a long pause—

"My sons," said the patriarch, "we are about concluding our Sunday evening's service—stay a few minutes longer." Seeing I hesitated, and looked towards Lanyard, he addressed himself to him.—"It is no great boon to concede this to us, whom in all human probability you shall never meet again."

We bowed, and immediately the whole party stepped forth into the air, and formed a circle on the quarterdeck round the capstan. Every thing was silent—presently the old man said a low murmuring prayer of thanksgiving—there was another solemn pause—when all at once they chanted the following magnificent lines of the cvii. Psalm, so beautifully fitted to our situation:—

"They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in
great waters;
"These see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep.
"For he commandeth, and raiseth the stormy wind, which lifteth
up the waves thereof.
"They mount up to the heaven, they go down again to the
depths: their soul is melted because of trouble.
"They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and
are at their wit's end.
"Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and he bringeth
them out of their distresses.
"He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still.
"Then are they glad because they be quiet; so he bringeth
them unto their desired haven.
"Oh that men would praise the Lord for his goodness."

I once more wished them a good voyage. Lanyard was by this seated in the boat, and stepping to the gangway, I turned in act to descend the ship's side, with a hold of the manrope in one hand. I found the whole group had followed me, and stood round in a semicircle; even my glorious little fellow was there, sound asleep in his mother's arms; and as the lantern cast its dim light on their mild countenances, and lit up their figures, and the clear pale moon shed a flood of silver light over all, I descended into the boat, and standing up in the stern sheets, again wished them a prosperous voyage. We now shoved off, as for myself, with a softened heart, and fitter to have died, I hope, than I was when the sun set.

Presently the lights on board were extinguished, and I could no longer see the figures of my friends; but still the low murmur of their voices was borne towards me on the gentle breeze, until a loud "yo, heave oh," echoed amongst the sails, and drowned them; while a rattling and cheeping of the gear, and the hollow thumping of the men's feet on the deck, and the groaning of the mainyard against the mast, as it was being braced round, indicated that the tall ship had once more bore up on her moonlight course.

*****

I was once more on board of the Midge.

"Ha, ha, Master Benjamin Brail, who would have thought there was so much sentimentality in your composition," said I to myself; that is, said every-day Benjie to the ethereal, weeping and wailing, and very nonsensical Benjamin as aforesaid. "My eye, had old Bloody Politeful seen me doing the agreeable and pathetic, amongst a covey of male and female methodist clergymen and clergywomen; but n'importe, Dick is a quiet going fellow and won't peach, so keep your own counsel, my lad."

"I say, steward,"—quoth Lanyard, this was Lennox's first night of holding office,—the other functionary pro tem. having subsided into his real character of landsman—"light the lamp in the cabin, do you hear? and bring me a glass of grog. Where is Mr Donovan?"

"Below, and asleep in bed, sir."

"Very well. Mr Marline, make sail, and run down to the commodore, and keep close in his wake, if you please."

"Ay, ay, sir."

We descended.

"Fetch the salt beef also, Lennox."

It was done. Were I a king, and fool enough to patronise suppers on shore—at sea, it is altogether "une autre chose"—my sole food at that meal would be a piece of capital virgin mess beef, that had been boiled the day before, but never a knife stuck into it until served up, with a coarse, crisp, brown biscuit, and a glass of cold grog after it—ay, you may turn up your nose at this, my fine fellow, but better men than you have agreed with me.

"That is very well mixed, steward, very cool," said I swigging off horn No. I. "By the way, Lennox, have you got the new philtre, the Barbadoes dripstone, at work?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ah, I thought so; was that the water you made that glass of grog with?" Sinner that I was, I knew as well as he that it was not.

"No, sir, we have not used the water yet."

I was sawing away, and munching the beef and biscuit aforesaid, all this while, most resolutely. "No!" said I; "should like to try the water; make me the smallest taste of grog in the world with it, the least drop—very pure and cool—capital water, I declare—rather too strong, Lennox, fill up the tumbler if you please; so—ah—too much man—it is if any thing too weak now;" here a little dash of spirits—"so"—and chuckling to myself that I had thus smuggled a second glass of grog in defiance of conscience, I desired the man to make down my bed, and prepared to turn in. El Señor Teniente had also been making very good use of his time, and chuckling to himself at my colloquy with the marine. "And here, Lennox, tell Mr Marline to call me if the wind changes, or any thing occurs worth reporting; and take the skylight off if you please." I now began to undress, and Lennox had returned to help me. The cool water had a surprising effect; my spirits suddenly became buoyant beyond all belief; so, after various churmings, I broke forth into involuntary song, as the poets say—

"'Estoy un hombre chico,
Mas contento soy que rico,
Y mi buque es un zapato.'

"My slippers—thank you—oh what a lovely boy—

'Con mono para patron'—

nightcap—what a glorious little man it was—

'El piloto es uno gato;
Y su rabo es el timon.'

'Estoy un hombre chico,
Mas contento soy que rico,
Tol de rol, lol di rol.'"

Little Benjamin, having by this manoeuvre gotten half-fou, vanisheth into his cavey.

Here Dennis Donovan stuck his head out of a side-berth. "Why, Lanyard—Lanyard, I say."—Dick was already in his berth, and sound asleep. "That fellow, now, tumbles into his sleep like a pig into the mire—all of a heap—Lennox."

"Here, sir."

"What howling is that—Whose pig's dead, Lennox?"

"It's Mr Brail singing, sir."

"Singing!—singing!—and is it singing he calls it?"