"So dull, sir, that I can't dance to it," returned the midshipman. "Nor
do I believe there is a man in the ship who would not rather hear 'The
girl I left behind me,' than those execrable sounds."

"What sounds, boy? The ship is as quiet as the Quaker meeting in the
Jerseys, before your good old grandfather used to break the charm of
silence with his sonorous voice."

"Ah! laugh at my peaceable blood, if thou wilt, Mr. Griffith," said the
arch youngster, "but remember, there is a mixture of it in all sorts of
veins. I wish I could hear one of the old gentleman's chants now, sir; I
could always sleep to them, like a gull in the surf. But he that sleeps
to-night, with that lullaby, will make a nap of it."

"Sounds! I hear no sounds, boy, but the flapping aloft; even that pilot,
who struts the quarter-deck like an admiral, has nothing to say."

"Is not that a sound to open a seaman's ear?"

"It is in truth a heavy roll of the surf, lad, but the night air carries
it heavily to our ears. Know you not the sounds of the surf yet,
younker?"

"I know it too well, Mr. Griffith, and do not wish to know it better.
How fast are we tumbling in towards that surf, sir?"

"I think we hold our own," said Griffith, rousing again; "though we had
better anchor. Luff, fellow, luff--you are broadside to the sea!"