aspire to anything else."

"Aye, aye, sir," said the quartermaster.

"And now that you've got to your bearings, as Trunnell would say, I'll
tell you a little story about a man who lost a pet dog called Willie."

I saw that it was high time for me to get forward, and slipped away. I
turned in ready for a call, thinking that perhaps Trunnell was right in
regard to our future prospects in the South Atlantic.




V


When I turned out for the mid-watch that night, Trunnell met me at the
door of the forward cabin. It was pitch dark on deck, and the wind had
died away almost entirely. The canvas had been rolled up, as it had begun
to slat heavily against the masts with the heave from a long, quick swell
that ran rapidly from the southward. The running gear was not new, and
Trunnell was a careful mate, so the ship was down to her upper topsails
on the fore and mizzen and a main t'gallant on mainmast, the courses fore
and after being clewed up and left hanging.

"He's out for trouble to-night," said the little mate. "Blast him if he
ain't touching the boose again."

"Who, the skipper?" I asked.