retain his original name,--Wymontoo-Hee, meaning (as he maintained),
in the figurative language of the island, something analogous to one
who had got himself into a scrape. The mate put an end to the
discussion by sousing the poor fellow with a bucket of salt water,
and bestowing upon him the nautical appellation of "Luff."

Though a certain mirthfulness succeeded his first pangs at leaving
home, Wymontoo--we will call him thus--gradually relapsed into his
former mood, and became very melancholy. Often I noticed him
crouching apart in the forecastle, his strange eyes gleaming
restlessly, and watching the slightest movement of the men. Many a
time he must have been thinking of his bamboo hut, when they were
talking of Sydney and its dance-houses.

We were now fairly at sea, though to what particular cruising-ground
we were going, no one knew; and, to all appearances, few cared. The
men, after a fashion of their own, began to settle down into the
routine of sea-life, as if everything was going on prosperously.
Blown along over a smooth sea, there was nothing to do but steer the
ship, and relieve the "look-outs" at the mast-heads. As for the sick,
they had two or three more added to their number--the air of the
island having disagreed with the constitutions of several of the
runaways. To crown all, the captain again relapsed, and became quite
ill.

The men fit for duty were divided into two small watches, headed
respectively by the mate and the Mowree; the latter by virtue of his
being a harpooner, succeeding to the place of the second mate, who
had absconded.