wink of sleep that night.

At seven o'clock next morning both skipper and steersman were up on
deck. No man could remember ever having seen them before so early in the
day. But there was no time to stand in amazement, for now followed, in
quick succession, orders for sailing.

'Heave up the anchors! Let two men go ashore and slip the cables!'

There was gladness and bustle among the crew, and the preparations
proceeded so rapidly that in less than an hour the brig was under
canvas.

The skipper looked at the steersman and shook his head, muttering, 'This
is the devil's own haste.'

After a few little turns in the spacious harbour, the brig passed the
headland and stood out to sea. A fresh breeze was blowing, and the waves
ran rather high.

The steersman, with a prodigious twist in his mouth, stood astride the
tiller, for such a piece of devil's trumpery as a wheel should never
come on board as long as _he_ had anything to say in the matter.

The skipper stood on the cabin stairs, with his head above the
companion. His face was of a somewhat greenish hue, and he frequently
ran down into the cabin. The old boatswain believed that he went to look
at the chart, the young man thought he drank whisky, but the cabin-boy
swore that he went below to vomit.