Albert, a fine strong little fellow, who was not one year old: he was
under the charge of a black girl, who had come from the Cape of Good
Hope to Sydney, and had followed Mrs. Seagrave to England. We have now
mentioned all the people on board of the Pacific: perhaps we ought not
to forget two shepherd's dogs, belonging to Mr. Seagrave, and a little
terrier, which was a great favourite of Captain Osborn, to whom she
belonged.

It was not until the fourth day from its commencement that the gale
abated, and then it gradually subsided until it was nearly a calm. The
men who had been watching night after night during the gale now brought
all their clothes which had been drenched by the rain and spray, and
hung them up in the rigging to dry: the sails, also, which had been
furled, and had been saturated by the wet, were now loosened and spread
out that they might not be mildewed. The wind blew mild and soft, the
sea had gone down, and the ship was running through the water at the
speed of about four miles an hour. Mrs. Seagrave, wrapped up in a
cloak, was seated upon one of the arm-chests near the stern of the
ship, her husband and children were all with her enjoying the fine
weather, when Captain Osborn, who had been taking an observation of the
sun with his sextant, came up to them.

"Well, Master Tommy, you are very glad that the gale is over?"

"I didn't care," replied Tommy, "only I spilt all my soup. But Juno
tumbled off her chair, and rolled away with the baby, till papa picked
them both up."

"It was a mercy that poor Albert was not killed," observed Mrs.
Seagrave.