One fine day Captain Talbot and his three mates were amusing themselves with revolver practice, at a quart-bottle slung from the foreyard-arm, at which they fired from the quarterdeck, but as the motion of the ship was considerable, as she was then going before the wind with all her yards square, and consequently rolled heavily, such was the oscillation of the object, that after some twenty shots it was only broken by Mr. Paul Bitts, who was greatly inflated by the circumstance and the applause it won him and now ensued thereon, an event somewhat illustrative of the strange doctrine of chances--a thing happening by luck, without expectation or prevision. As Mr. Bitts was dropping fresh cartridges into the chambers of his breech-loading pistol, with the air of a candle-snuffer at twenty paces, his eyes fell on Derval, who, with the other two middies, was regarding him with some interest, if it was not a very warm one. "Well, young fellow, do you think you could do that--eh?" he asked with a grin. "I should like to try, sir," replied Derval, colouring. "Oho! the deuce you would! Why, you young----" "Give him a shot," said Captain Talbot, interrupting some abusive epithet; "take my revolver, Hampton. Grummet, run up another bottle to the yard-arm." "It will save trouble to let him have a shy at the neck--that is enough for such a marksman!" sneered Paul Bitts. Derval nervously took the Captain's pistol, for he had never had such an implement in his hand before, raised it, aimed, and while thinking the report was all he would make, fired, and, by a most astounding "fluke," smashed the bottle-neck which was yet dangling from the yard-arm! A burst of astonishment escaped the crew, while the Captain, who evidently knew how it all came to pass, laughed heartily; but not so Mr. Bitts, who felt in this a fresh cause for hatred, and retired aft, sulkily muttering: "A sly young beggar, who, I believe, knows more of the world, the flesh, and the devil, than the ship's crew all told, for all that his face and manner are so devilish meek!" But resting on the reputation so suddenly won, Derval did not, for a long time, indulge in any more pistol-shooting. Now came the time for crossing the line, and from all he had heard of the rough jokes perpetrated on that occasion Derval had a genuine terror of Mr. Bitts, for the absurdities practised often became insulting and cruel. But such is the improvement now wrought among seamen by the spread of education and general progress of refinement, that these coarse sports are decidedly on the wane, and Captain Talbot contenting himself with ordering extra grog to all to drink the health of Neptune, the equator was passed quietly, and many schemes formed secretly by Mr. Paul Bitts for shaving and sousing in slush both Derval and his chum Tom Titford, ended in nothing, to the great relief of both.