"Have you ever seen him yourself, Jacob?" asked Carl Beck.

"I'll not say that I have, and I'll not say that I haven't. But I know
that the last time I was off those islands, we had such tremendous
weather that we thought ourselves lucky in making any port at all."

For a while every one was busied with the thoughts which Jacob's recital
had suggested, and there was a solemn pause, which was broken by Carl
Beck's striking up another song to keep off sleep:--

"Before the wind and a flowing sail,
Vessels for every port!
In letters of gold a dear girl's name
On every stern inwrought!
The vessel may sail the world around,
But with her the girls will still be found!
Hurrah! then, boys, for the one of your mind,
That never, oh, never, you'll leave behind."

He repeated the last couplet with a gay inclination of his glass to the
ladies, who were sitting now tired and huddled together on the bench,
and over their heads to Elizabeth, who was standing in the background,
awake enough for both of them. The light from the fire fell upon his
handsome brown face, with the raven black curly hair, and the dark eyes
that it was said he had inherited from his recently deceased mother, who
was from Brest; and with his flow of animal spirits, that sufficed for
the whole party almost, he certainly was as manly and handsome a lad as
you would wish to meet.