goin' to Old Davy's store-house. I once escaped it, after I'd had my
mysterious dream; but then I made the cook throw the cat overboard
just after we left port, and 'twas all that saved us."

Thus saying, he went forward to serve a topgallant-stay that was
stretched across the forecastle-hatch from the cat-heads, and had
just been spliced by the men, followed by an old-fashioned
sea-urchin, a miniature of the tar, with a mallet in his hand. The
captain, although a firm, intelligent man, and little given to such
notions of fate as are generally entertained by sailors, who never
shake off the spiritual imaginings of the forecastle, displayed some
discomfiture of mind at the strong character of the mate's
misgivings. He knew him to be a good sailor, firm in his duty, and
unmoved by peril. This he had proved on several occasions when
sailing in other vessels, when the last ray of hope seemed to be
gone. He approached the mate again, and with a pretence of making
inquiries about the storage of the cargo, sounded him further in
regard to his knowledge of the Bahamas, and with special reference
to the port of Nassau.

"Six-tenths of her timbers are as rotten as punk," said the mate;
"this North American timber never lasts long; the pump-wells are
defective, and when we carry sail upon her, they don't affect the
water in the lee-bilge, and she rolls it through her air-streaks
like a whale. She'll damage the best cargo that ever floated, in
that way. Take my word for it, skipper, she'll never go across the
Banks; she'll roll to splinters as soon as she gets into them long
seas; and if we get dismasted again, it's gone Davy."

"I know the old scow before to-day, and wouldn't shipped in her, if