As this is really meant to be the record of a spiritualistic experience
which came, if not precisely to Captain Johns himself, at any rate to
his ship, there is no use in recording the other events of the passage
out. It was an ordinary passage, the crew was an ordinary crew, the
weather was of the usual kind. The black mate's quiet, sedate method of
going to work had given a sober tone to the life of the ship. Even in
gales of wind everything went on quietly somehow.

There was only one severe blow which made things fairly lively for all
hands for full four-and-twenty hours. That was off the coast of Africa,
after passing the Cape of Good Hope. At the very height of it several
heavy seas were shipped with no serious results, but there was a
considerable smashing of breakable objects in the pantry and in the
staterooms. Mr. Bunter, who was so greatly respected on board, found
himself treated scurvily by the Southern Ocean, which, bursting open the
door of his room like a ruffianly burglar, carried off several useful
things, and made all the others extremely wet.

Later, on the same day, the Southern Ocean caused the _Sapphire_ to
lurch over in such an unrestrained fashion that the two drawers fitted
under Mr. Bunter's sleeping-berth flew out altogether, spilling all
their contents. They ought, of course, to have been locked, and Mr.
Bunter had only to thank himself for what had happened. He ought to have
turned the key on each before going out on deck.

His consternation was very great. The steward, who was paddling about
all the time with swabs, trying to dry out the flooded cuddy, heard him
exclaim "Hallo!" in a startled and dismayed tone. In the midst of his
work the steward felt a sympathetic concern for the mate's distress.