The jolliest of the crew of the _Brilliant_ were seated to-night near the galley fire, or they clung to lockers or lay on the deck; it is all the same. It was cold enough to make a fire pleasant and agreeable, and they were all within speaking distance; they had pipes and tobacco and plates of sea-pie, for it was Friday night, the old custom of making Friday a kind of Banian day being still kept up in some vessels of the merchant service. "Hullo! Mr McAlpine," cried the carpenter. "Right welcome, sir. And you too, Mr McCrane. Glad to see the smiling faces of the pair of you. Ain't we, mates?" "That we are," and "that we be," came the ready chorus. "Some sea-pie, gentlemen," said the cook, handing each a steaming basin of that most savoury dish. "I made it," cried the bo'sun. "Not all," cried another. "I rolled the paste." "And I cut the beef." "And I sliced the bacon." "And I chopped the onions." "And I pared the 'taters." This last from the cabin-boy. "Ha! ha! ha!" roared the jolly carpenter. "I say, maties, blowed if we haven't all had a hand in the pie." "Well, it is jolly eating anyhow," said Kenneth. "The smell of it's enough to raise a dying man," quoth Archie. "Bravo, sir," cried the bo'sun, "and I hopes it makes ye both 'appy." "Happy, yes," said Kenneth. "I'm so happy now, I can sing and play." "Oh I give us a toot on the old flute first." Kenneth gave them "a toot." "Now give us a song." "Let the gentleman take his breath," the carpenter remonstrated. "Never a breath," persisted the bo'sun. "He must pay his footin', I says. And I warrant you, too, he has as much pleasure in singing as we has in listenin' to 'im." "Oh! shut up, old Barkshire," said somebody. "Barkshire be bothered," cried the bo'sun. "I'm not ashamed to own my shire. You comes from the land o' _Tres_ and _Pens_; you're west-country, you be. Have to fish for your breakfast every mornin', else ye doesn't get none: He! he!" "Well, never mind," said the good-natured carpenter, smiling. "We're all nationalities here. Bill here is York; Tim is Irish; I'm just what Pipes calls me, Barkshire." "And I and my friend are Scotch," said Kenneth. "Hurrah! for a Scotch song, then." It wasn't one, but several songs Kennie and Archie had to sing, but all Scotch, and what can beat them, reader mine? "Sing ony o' the auld Scotch sangs, The blithesome or the sad; They mak' me laugh when I am wae, And weep when I am glad. Though eyes grow dim and hair grow grey, Until the day I dee, I'll bless the Scottish tongue that sings The auld Scotch sangs to me." There was no satisfying his audience, so once more Kennie had to fall back upon the flute. While playing, a heavy sea struck the vessel on the weather bow, and the water came tumbling down the hatchway; although it rushed forward among the men and hissed against the hot iron fending of the copper, they hardly shifted their positions.