_Monday._--The _Rose of Delhi_ lay in her place in the freshness of the sunny morning, making ready to go out of dock with the incoming tide. I went on board betimes: and I thought I had never been in such a bustling scene before. The sailors knew what they were about. I conclude, but to me it seemed all confusion. The captain I could not see anywhere; but his chief officer, Pym, seemed to be more busy than a certain common enemy of ours is said to be in a gale of wind. "Is the captain not on board?" I asked of Mark Ferrar, as he was whisking past me on deck. "Oh no, sir; not yet. The captain will not come on board till the last moment--if he does then." The words took me by surprise. "What do you mean, by saying 'If he does then'?" "He has so much to do, sir; he is at the office now, signing the bills of lading. If he can't get done in time he will join at Gravesend when we take on some passengers. The captain is not wanted on board when we are going out of dock, Mr. Johnny," added Ferrar, seeing my perplexed look. "The river-pilot takes the ship out." He pointed to the latter personage, just then making his appearance on deck. I wondered whether all river-pilots were like him. He was broad enough to make two ordinarily stout people; and his voice, from long continuous shouting, had become nothing less than a raven's croak. At the last moment, when the ship was getting away, and I had given the captain up, he came on board. How glad I was to see his handsome, kindly face! "I've had a squeak for it, Johnny," he laughed, as he shook my hand: "but I meant to go down with you if I could." Then came all the noise and stir of getting away: the croaking of the pilot alone distinguishable to my uninitiated ears. "Slack away the stern-line"--he called it starn. "Haul in head-rope." "Here, carpenter, bear a hand, get the cork-fender over the quarter-gallery." "What are you doing aft there?--why don't you slack away that stern-line?" Every other moment it seemed to me that we were going to pitch into the craft in the pool, or they into us. However, we got on without mishap. Captain Tanerton was crossing the ship, after holding a confab with the pilot, when a young man, whom he did not recognize, stepped aside out of his way, and touched his cap. The captain looked surprised, for the badge on the cap was the one worn by his own officers. "Who are you?" he asked. "Mr. Saxby, if you please, sir." "Mr. Saxby! What do you do here?" "Third mate, if you please, sir," repeated the young man. "Your third mate, Mr. Jones, met with an accident yesterday; he broke his leg; and my friend, Pym, spoke of me to Mr. Gould." Captain Tanerton was not only surprised, but vexed. First, for the accident to Jones, who was a very decent young fellow; next, at his being superseded by a stranger, and a friend of Pym's. He put a few questions, found the new man's papers were in order, and so made the best of it.