"He never had any that I know of," I rejoined, "but he certainly did hear something, for he has changed in his manner, and the skipper and he have long talks by themselves, and I heard Stewart tell him one day that after all it would have been better to have left the ship at Gibralter, and not gone the voyage." "Did he, though!" cried Langley; "in that case I should have been second mate--however, I'm glad he didn't quit." "Thank you, Bill," said a voice behind us; and turning in some confusion we beheld Mr. Stewart standing in the companion. "How is her head?" he continued, asking the usual question, to allow us to recover from our embarrassment. "About west, sir," replied Langley. "Well, as the wind freshens a little and is getting rather to the nor'ard, you'd better give your larboard braces a pull or two, and then put your course rather north of west to hit the Pass." "Ay ay, sir," said the third mate. "For'ard, there, come aft here, and round in on the larboard braces. Keep her up, Jack, about west nor'west." After the crew had complied with the orders of the officer they retired forward, and we of the quarter-deck seated ourselves on the booby-hatch. "We were talking about you when you came on deck, sir," said I, after a short silence. "Ah! indeed," replied the mate smiling. "Yes," said Langley, "we thought it was rather odd you hadn't been on deck lately, to see whether we boys were not running away with the ship in your watch. It has been deuced lonesome these dark blowy nights along back. If you had been on deck to spin us a yarn it would have been capital." "Boys," said the mate, taking out his cigar-case, "I've a great mind to spin you a yarn now." "Oh! do, by all means," cried the third mate and the ship's cousin together. We lighted our cigars; the mate took a few puffs to get fairly under way, and then began. CHAPTER IV. _The Mate's Yarn._