'There's no sea yet,' he answered. 'It's river so far. We're towing through what's called the Warp, near the Nore, whose light ye should be able to see, Miss Otway,' said he, getting up and ducking and bobbing to command the whole compass of a cabin window. 'I wonder the ship doesn't run the tug down,' said Mr. Owen. The captain looked at me with his merry eyes and chuckled. 'Ay, we're a match for the old slapper even with nothing on us but fore and aft canvas and two topsails,' said he. 'I wish Sir Mortimer was with us. Here's a voyage to thread a heart through the strands of his years. I don't know that ever I met a gentleman I took a greater fancy to, unless it's Mr. Moore,' and he gave me a bow, whilst I smiled, feeling a faint glow in my cheeks. 'There'll be a full moon at eight,' said Mr. Owen. 'So there will, sir, thank God,' answered Captain Burke. 'We sailors can never have too much light. No, not even in our wives' eyes,' said he, with an askant arch look at Mrs. Burke. And now he began to talk. Though without the brogue in his tongue, he had the fluency and humour of his country. He was full of stories of adventure and experience; scarce a sea he had not navigated in his day. His wife watched me eagerly, and if ever I smiled her face lighted up and her kind eyes shone. All his efforts were directed to cheer me. Observing Mr. Owen smelling at an egg he exclaimed: 'What's that you've got?' 'Something laid too soon, captain.' 'Doctor,' said the captain, 'I know a sailor who made an experiment: he put a number of French eggs under a sitting rooster, and what d'ye think was hatched? Cocks and hens in the last stage of decrepitude! They hopped and staggered about in his little back-yard, and died of old age in twenty-four hours. That was his test of a bad egg. If he wanted to make sure he hatched it.' Thus ran his careless, good-humoured gabble, and perhaps had he talked wisely and soberly he would not have done me any good. He went on deck presently, and the mate, Mr. Green, came below to get his supper. He was a middle-aged man, of a very nautical cut in figure and clothes, with a sneering face, and a beard of wiry iron hair covering his throat, though he shaved to the round of his chin, and a droop of left eyelid put the expression of an acid leer into that side of his face. Mr. Owen had withdrawn to his cabin. Mrs. Burke and I sat at a little distance upon a comfortable sofa near the stove. The mate squared his elbows and fell to work slowly but diligently, often lifting his knife to his mouth and chewing with the solemnity of a goat.