I don’t remember how I made out at the breakfast-table that morning, but as soon as I came on deck I looked for the Countess of Warwick.

She lay right abreast of us, and so close aboard that I could have flung a belaying-pin into her waist.

Our passengers went aft and sat in the shade of the spanker. They appeared very much interested in the English ship.

Her great black hull sat well in the water, though she was not loaded deep. At every roll of the swell I could see over her high t’gallant-rail and catch a momentary glimpse of the men on her main-deck.

Full rigged fore and aft, she showed a tremendous spread of canvas from her three skysail-yards to the foot of her courses. Her tall spars and long, tapering yards made stunsails unnecessary, and the bright blackness of her standing rigging told plainly that she had a mate on board who understood his business.

Below, her copper showed a foot clear of the sea, and the water was so quiet and clear that the eye could easily follow it down under her bilge, where it seemed to give forth a soft, greenish sheen as the light fell on it at each swing of the hull.

At every roll of the swell her sails slatted against her masts and backed and filled with short, irregular jerks at the clews, until the rattle sounded like the distant roll of musketry.

While I stood looking at her, a short, slight man with red whiskers appeared emerging from the after-companionway. He wore a cap with a long visor, and a dark waistcoat flying loose and unbuttoned, which set off the semi-whiteness of his shirt-sleeves to great advantage. He stood looking at us a few moments, and then sung out:

“Hey there! where are you bound?”

“Hongkong, if you don’t foul and roll the gear out of us,” answered Crojack, somewhat shortly.

“I will be aboard you in a minute,” came the response, and the small skipper held up his hand as if to ward off any further conversation until he arrived.

“Mr. Garnett!” he bawled, as he advanced to the edge of the poop, “Mr. Garnett!”

“Ay, ay, sir,” came the gruff response from somewhere directly beneath his feet.

The next instant the sturdy figure rose from the main-deck, and a shining bald head was furiously mopped within a foot of the skipper’s knees.

“Mr. Garnett,” roared the little captain, “get that port quarter boat overboard, sir, and don’t keep me waiting here all the morning. Jump, now, for I can’t abide waiting for a lazy, worthless set of loafers like your watch.”

A hoarse growling followed this order, and instantly all was noise and action on the ship. The men rushed for oars and tackles, and I was astonished at the large number of them in sight.

Above the turmoil could be heard some of Garnett’s favourite oaths, which had more power of expression than any equal number of words before put together.

The tackles were hooked on, and in another minute the boat was over the side and ready.

“Give Mr. Carter the course, but tell him to lie by until we come aboard again, and don’t keep me waiting here, but get into that boat and take me to the American clipper Arrow. Come, bear a hand there.”

“Boat’s all ready, sir,” roared the mate, as he swung himself over the rail and dropped into her stern-sheets, red in the face with exertion.

“Are the cushions in her?” inquired the skipper, looking cautiously over the rail.

“Ay, ay, sir,” came the answer.

“Is the compass and water-breaker stowed safe?”

“Ay, ay, sir, all safe, sir.”

“Are provisions on board, in case we lose our bearings and can’t get back again?”

“Ay, ay, sir, grub enough to last a week.”

“Have you the ‘navigator’ with you?”

There was a moment of silence.

“Have you the ‘navigator’? No! Well, how many times will I have to tell you, Mr. Garnett, never to start off on a cruise until you are ready? Get the ‘navigator,’ and be quick about it.”

The mate climbed on deck again and went below, reappearing in a moment with the “navigator” tucked lovingly under his arm.

“All right, sir,” he cried, as he dropped over into the boat.

At this the little skipper climbed carefully down into the mizzen channels and stepped into the stern-sheets, while the steward came to the rail and passed the skipper’s coat to Mr. Garnett.

“Shove off! don’t sit there looking at me,” and the men let go and shoved clear of the vessel’s side. Then they raised their oars to a peak.

“Let fall!” and the two oars clattered clumsily into the row-locks.

“Give ’way together!” and the boat shot out from the ship’s side and came toward us.

“Git on to th’ style av th’ Johnnie Bull,” chuckled O’Toole, who had just come on deck; “wan would think ’twas a man-o’-war sindin’ out a bloomin’ admiral. Now, b’ th’ faith av th’ howly saints! Who’s the mug I see squattin’ there in th’ stern-sheets? Garnett! B’ th’—”

“In bow! Weigh enough!” cried the little skipper, as the boat with six sweeping strokes fell alongside.

The next instant he sprang over the rail on to our main-deck, closely followed by his mate.

Then he deliberately put on his coat, waved Garnett to stand back, and approached Captain Crojack with a majestic step.

“Captain Webster, sir, yes, sir; Captain Webster of the Countess of Warwick,” he cried, as he reached the quarter-deck, where our skipper stood.

“Ah, did I hear aright? Crojack? Captain Crojack, I’m most happy to meet you, sir; most eternally tickled. Ah, your wife and daughter, I see. Madam, I bow to you. It gives me most uncommon pleasure, miss; yes, I may even say delight. But now, sir,” he cried, turning suddenly upon Crojack, “what is this row about, and what do you mean by hailing me and ordering me to stand off?”

His attack upon the skipper was so sudden that Crojack staggered back a pace or two in amazement and stared with open-eyed wonder at the little man, while his features worked convulsively as if he didn’t know whether to laugh or throw his guest overboard.

“Come, come, sir; I can’t waste all the morning here. Do you see that flag, sir?” and he pointed to the British ensign that hung in folds from his vessel’s peak.

“That is her Majesty’s flag, sir, and I’m her Majesty’s most humble servant, though a most uncommon man, sir; and if there’s anything I can do for you, sing out. Don’t stand there staring at me, sir. There’s nothing aggravates me so, sir, as to have a man stare at me. Come, come, don’t be afraid of me,” and he held out his hand in a friendly manner.

“Gee-whillikins!” gasped Crojack.

“Nothing of the kind, sir; not at all. Lionel Webster, if you please, and an extraordinary man in some respects, if I do venture to say so myself. Come, come, don’t be afraid. But, ah! Maybe the subject will not bear discussion before the ladies, in which case we’ll go below, sir; yes, sir, quite out of sight, sir,” and he grasped Crojack’s hand and led him like a man who is not quite awake down the companionway into the after cabin.

As they disappeared, I turned to meet Garnett, who, with O’Toole, had stood silently watching the skippers in order to render any assistance if necessary.

“Well, well, ’pon me whurd, for a fact! So it’s you, you old bald-headed, bow-legged bean-swiller. Sure, there’s no mistaking that stove-in figurehead av yourn. Say, but I’m glad t’ see ye again, messmate. My, how it brings back the times we windjammers used t’ have together, ’mongst th’ archipelagoes. Well, well, ’pon me whurd, how is it you are afloat again, an’ on a bloody Johnnie Bull at that?”

“Don’t meddle with family affairs, shipmate. If a respectable married man chooses to follow the sea for a living, why, there it is. There is no more pious calling than a mate’s, as you might know yourself. But by the eternal thunder! I wonder they allow a man with a head like yours aboard a vessel carrying soft coal and oil in bulk. May the eternal fire swinge me, but you are a freckle-faced, red-headed bulldog—

“You say you’re for China?”

Then he turned to me.

“Ah, Mr. Gore, blast me, but it does me good to get amongst the old crowd. Seems like we’ll have a spell o’ weather, hey?” and the old mate mopped his bald head with a dirty red handkerchief.

I shook hands with him and told him I was glad to see him again, for, although he was an old man, he was active yet, and knew more about handling square canvas than any man living.

I’m not a man to bemoan my luck, like nearly all sailors, and when I find I’m down I make the best of it. So when old Bill Garnett—who had been mate with my father a score of years before—looked askance at me and called me Mr. instead of captain, knowing my rating, I shook his hand and sat beside him on the main hatch.

Once in the shade of the mainsail the old mate fixed himself comfortably and took from his coat pocket a small nickel-plated vial, at which he sniffed loudly.

“What in th’ name av the saints have ye got yer fins on now?” asked O’Toole, who had seated himself opposite. He stared in wonder at the operation while the odour of peppermint filled the air.

“Blarst me if I know,” grunted Garnett, still sniffing violently at the vial.

“What! peppermint? Ye coom t’ that in yer owld age? ’Pon me whurd, ’twas a different odour ye used to carry about ye.”

“I ain’t as young as I was onct, and that place in my head troubles me more as I grows older. This little thing was sold to me by a fellow on the beach, who said it was good for things in the head, an’ he wasn’t the biggest liar I ever knew, for it does me a power o’ good, ’specially at night. You see, I’m too old, anyway, to be cruising about much longer, and if it wasn’t for the money to be gotten out of a cargo like we carry, I would stay on the beach. Then, again, there’s family affairs that makes me want to feel the heave of a ship’s deck under me once more; but these are private matters and don’t concern no one but the parties involved.

“This here little thing’s called ‘Killakoff Kurakold,’ which, the fellow said what sold it to me, was Roosian for neuralg’a cure; but it has an almighty Yankee smack to it. After all, when a man gets along toward his last cruise, like me, he has to take some things for granted—an’ he sees the value of leading an unselfish life, and that the only real pleasures are those what relieve sufferings of others.”

“’Pon me whurd, you have got it down mighty fine. Th’ very whurds old Father Easyman used t’ say; an’ I do belave th’ medicine has virtue whin it kapes an owld memory alive like that. ‘Sufferin’s av others,’ hey! Which goes t’ show yer mane th’ fellow what invented that little instrument was a thrue philanthropist, an’ a man after yer own heart.”

“I don’t remember hearing those words before,—leastways, not put in that way,—but if you mean to say I didn’t make them up myself, why, I suppose you’re right,” growled Garnett.

“As for making words brand-new, it’s a trade I don’t go into much. All words I ever seen or heard, except some in foreign languages, was invented long afore I was afloat,—such as Tom, Bill, and the likes. You say that dapper chap there, talking to Johnson, is third mate? S’help me! I suppose old man Crojack will be shipping sky-pilots and holy Joes next,” and he carefully replaced his vial in his pocket, while he listened to Brown talking to one of the boat’s crew who had climbed on deck.

“He’s the best mate I ever sailed with,” I said, as I saw the look of disdain gathering on the old mate’s face. “But tell us how you came to be aboard an Englishman, and what kind of a cargo it is that pays so well. You say you are bound for the Andamans?”

“I’m coming to that now,” he replied, “if you’ll just give a man time to get his bearings,” and he reached into his pocket and drew forth an enormous piece of plug tobacco. He bit off a couple of ounces and began to manipulate the quid so as to get it securely stowed in his cheek while he replaced the remainder of the plug in his pocket.

He then drew a long breath, as if about to begin his yarn, and squirted a huge mouthful of tobacco juice on to the clean white deck.

“You see, when I married—”

“Here, Bill, get a swab an’ wipe up th’ dirty mess,” cried O’Toole to a sailor. “This ain’t no bloody Johnnie Bull, an’ we don’t make no pig-pen av the main-deck. But go ahead, messmate; there’s a swab for ye, an’ ye can take snap shots at it betwixt breaths. Leave it lay, Bill.”

Garnett scowled at the sailor, who dropped the swab; then, taking no further notice of the interruption, he began.