The result was that on the first quiet day Professor Hemenway and his assistant gave a matinee performance on the deck of the Nantucket, at which all who could possibly be spared were present. To some of the sailors it was a novelty, and the magician’s tricks actually inspired some with the feeling that he was possessed of supernatural powers. “Will you lend me your hat, Mr. Clinton?” he asked presently, of the dude. “Certainly, professor,” drawled the young man. The professor took it, and tapped it. “Are you sure there is nothing in it?” he asked. “I am sure of it. Really, I don’t carry things in my hat, don’t you know.” “What do you say to this, then?” and Professor Hemenway drew out of the hat half a dozen onions, a couple of potatoes, and a ship biscuit. “My dear sir, I think you are mistaken,” he said. “I see you carry your lunch in your hat.” All present laughed at the horrified face of the dude. “On my honor, I don’t know how those horrid things came in my hat,” he stammered. “Are you fond of onions, Mr. Clinton?” asked Harry. “I wouldn’t eat one for--for a new suit of clothes!” protested Clinton, earnestly. “Allow me to return your hat, Mr. Clinton,” said the professor, politely. “I suppose you want the vegetables too. Here are the onions, and the rest.” “They are not mine, on my honor,” said Clinton, very much embarrassed. “Here, my good man, can you make use of these?” The sailor whom he addressed accepted the gift with a grin. “Thank you kindly, sir,” he said, “If so be as I ain’t a-robbin’ you.” “I have no use for them, my good man. I never ate an onion in my life.” “Then I don’t think you know what’s good,” said Mr. Stubbs. “An onion, let me tell you, is mighty good eatin’, and healthy, too.” At the close of the magical entertainment, Harry sang by request, and no part of the performance was more popular. He received many warm congratulations. “Really, Mr. Vane, you sing like a nightingale, don’t you know,” was the tribute of Clinton. “Bless me!” said Mr. Timmins; “I was so absorbed in your song that I have forgotten to take my catarrh medicine.” “Thank you, sir; that is the best compliment I have received,” returned Harry, with a smile. Little has been said thus far of Captain Hill, the chief officer of the Nantucket. He was a stout, red-faced seaman, nearing fifty years of age, and had been in service ever since he was fifteen. He was a thorough sailor, and fitted in every way but one to take charge of a ship bound to any part of the world. His one disqualification may be stated briefly--he had a passion for drink. It was not immediately that this was found out. He took his meals with the passengers, but it was not then that he indulged his appetite. He kept a private store of liquors in his cabin, and had recourse to them when by himself, under the impression that he could keep it a secret. But intemperance, like murder, will out.