where was the _Cinderella_? Anyhow, she had a day's start of us.
Captain Williams would rise then, and stand before his ship's picture,
pointing into her rigging.

"I must go in and see that girl," said the captain's wife once, when we
were in the middle of one of our voyages.

"Eh?" questioned her husband, instantly bending to her, but keeping his
forefinger pointing to his old ship; thinking, perhaps, his wife was
adding something to his narrative he had forgotten.

"Yes," she said, and did not meet his face. "I must go in and see her.
He's been gone a week now. He must be crossing the Bay, and look at
the weather we've had. I know what it is."

I did then leave our voyage in the past for a moment, to listen to the
immediate weather without. It was certainly a wild night. I should
get wet when I left for home.

"Ah!" exclaimed the puzzled captain, suddenly enlightened, with his
finger still addressing the picture on the wall. "She means the man
down the street. An engineer, isn't he? The missis calls him a
sailor." He continued that voyage, made in 1862.

There was one evening when, on the home run, we had overhauled and
passed our rivals in the race, and were off the Start. Captain
Williams was serving a tot all round, in a propitiatory act, hoping to
lower the masts of the next astern deeper beneath the horizon, and to
keep them there till he was off Blackwall Point. He then found he
wanted to show me a letter, testimony to the work of his ship, which he