Captain Staunton glanced, with an amused twinkle in his eye, at his over-confident passenger, as much as to say, “What do you think of that?”
Brook looked just a trifle confused for a moment; then his brow cleared, and he replied to the captain’s look by remarking in his usual easy confident tone—
“Oh, ah, yes; it’s all right. She’s been altered, and had her name changed; I remember reading about it somewhere.”
“Good heavens!” exclaimed the skipper sotto voce to the chief mate who was standing next him; “why, before the voyage is over the man will be telling us that the Galatea is her own longboat lengthened and raised upon.”
At 7:30 p.m. the hands were mustered, when the chief and second officers proceeded to pick the watches. Bob, to his great satisfaction, found himself included in the chief officer’s watch, with Ralph Neville for a companion. They were told off, with two able and two ordinary seamen, for duty on the mizzen-mast; the two lads being also required to keep the time and strike the bell, in spells of two hours each.
By seven bells in the first watch (11:30 p.m.) the Galatea was off the North Foreland, with a nice little breeze blowing from E.N.E.
All hands were then called, the canvas was loosed and set, the tow-rope cast off by the tug and hauled inboard, and the voyage, which was to prove of so eventful a character to those entering upon it, may be said to have fairly commenced. The ship was soon under every stitch of sail that would draw, gliding down through the Downs at the rate of about seven knots, and the passengers, most of whom had remained on deck to witness the operation of making sail, then retired to their several berths, where, the night being fine and the water smooth, it is reasonable to suppose they enjoyed a good night’s rest.