“Thou leanest on me thus,” he observed, in a grave tone, “because thou art young. Youth is trusting; but wert thou older, thou wouldst look on me, who am known to thee for so brief a space, with more wariness, and less reliance.” “In sooth, no, never!” said Don Rafaele, earnestly. “Hardly could thine own self make me ever doubt thee.” He paused, and, as though he had just become sensible of the eagerness with which he had spoken, and the warmth and earnestness of his manner, and, for some reason or other, considered such a manifestation unbecoming, looked confused. Turning to avoid observation, his eye fell on the ship’s shrouds, and he there discerned something that, seized on the instant, furnished him with an excellent opening for retreat. “Madonna! see your lieutenant, Senhor!” he said, pointing to the shrouds, which Master Halyard, in order to show that what he had asserted to him was a fact, and that he was really “no ways particular,” had mounted barefooted, and was now ascending on his way aloft. “In faith, he treads the rope to measure, as though there were music playing.” His astonishment was increased when, on approaching the summit of the shrouds, Master Halyard, instead of pushing through the lubbers’-hole, took the more venturous route upward, and drew himself on to the topmast-landing over the outside. When he had gained the landing, he came to a halt; and previous to pursuing his progress, in which he had yet made but little way, swept his eye round the horizon. “A sail to leeward, Sir!” he cried to Hildebrand. Hildebrand, thus addressed, turned his eye in the direction specified; but, though he surveyed the horizon earnestly, could discern no trace of the reported ship. “Three more sail to leeward, Sir!” cried Halyard. Again Hildebrand turned his eye on the horizon. “Three more sail to leeward, Sir!” cried Halyard. Hildebrand’s countenance became more grave. “Ho there! at the helm!” he shouted: “Bear off a point to windward!” “Ay, ay, Sir!” was the ready answer of the helmsman. “Now, Senhor, seize thee a grasp of that pin,” said Hildebrand to Don Rafaele, at the same time pointing to a belaying-pin, or hold for a rope, that stood out of the ship’s bulwark. Don Rafaele, without inquiring the object of such a procedure, grasped at the pin on the instant, and then looked to Hildebrand for further instruction. While his eye yet rested on his face, the helmsman, conformably to his recent orders, suddenly turned the helm, and the ship gave a violent pitch on the water. Don Rafaele turned pale as he felt the deck tremble under him; but, having a firm hold of the belaying-pin, he maintained his footing with ease. “Two more sail to leeward, Sir!” cried Halyard. Hildebrand, after another glance at the horizon, which revealed no more than his former ones, raised himself on the ship’s bulwark, and mounted into the shrouds. Thence he passed to the topmast-landing, and there, coming to a halt, joined Halyard.