He wrung Brandon's hand hard and left the ship.

About six feet away stood Cigole, looking over the stern and smoking a
cigar. He was near enough to hear what had been said, but he did not
appear to have heard it. Throwing his cigar into the water, he plunged
his hands into his pockets, and began whistling a lively air.

"Aha, Capitano," said he, in a foreign accent, "I have brought my wool
off at last."

Brandon paced the deck silently yet watchfully.

The good ship _Java_ went out with a fine breeze, which continued
for some days, until at last nothing could be seen but the wide ocean.
In those few days Brandon had settled himself comfortably on board, and
had learned pretty well the kind of life which he would have to lead for
the next six months or so. The captain was a quiet, amiable sort of a
person, without much force of character; the mate was more energetic and
somewhat passionate; the crew consisted of the average order of men.
There was no chance, certainly, for one of those conspiracies such as
Mr. Compton had hinted at as having taken place on the _Vishnu_;
for in his account of that affair he evidently believed that Uracao had
been made a scape-goat for the sins of the others.

Brandon was soon on the best of terms with the officers of the ship. As
to Cigole it was different. The fact of their being the only passengers
on board might of itself have been a sufficient cause to draw them
together; but Brandon found it difficult to pass beyond the extremest
limits of formal intercourse. Brandon himself considered that his