He was the jolliest, heartiest figure of a man that a convivial soul could yearn to embrace; a shape molded by the ocean, as the Deal beach pebble is molded by the ceaseless heave of the breakers. He thrust me into a capacious armchair and stood on rounded shanks, staring at me with his face flushed and working with pleasure. “And how are you, uncle?” “Well.” “And Aunt Elizabeth?” “Well.” “And Bessie?” “Well.” “Where are they?” “Coming downstairs.” And this was true; a moment later my aunt and cousin entered--my aunt a grave, pale gentlewoman in a black gown, black being her only wear for these twenty years past, ever since the death of her only son at the age of four; my cousin a handsome, well-shaped girl of seventeen with cherry-ripe lips and large flashing black eyes, and abundance of dark hair with a tinge of rusty red upon it--they entered, I say, and they had fifty questions to ask, as I had. But in half an hour’s time the greetings were over, and I was sitting at a most hospitably laden supper table, having satisfied myself, by going out of doors, that the night was quiet, that there was still no stir of wind, and that nothing more was happening roundabout than a vivid play of violet lightning low down in the sky, with frequent cracklings and groanings of distant thunder. I was not surprised that Uncle Joe and his family had not heard of the arrival of the _Royal Brunswicker_ in the Downs; though I had been somewhat astonished by his guessing it was I, when I knocked. “So you’re chief mate of the ship?” he exclaimed. “I am.” “How has Spalding used ye, Bill?” “Handsomely. As a father. I shall love Spalding till the end of my days, and until I get command I shall never wish to go afloat with another man.” “Well,” said my uncle, “it is not every skipper, as you know, that would allow his first mate a run ashore, himself waiting aboard the while for a slant of wind to get his anchor. No. Don’t let us forget the weather. Bess, my daisy, there’s no call for Bill to keep all on looking out o’ doors; get ye forth now and again and report any sigh of wind you may hear. I’ll find out its quarter, and Bill shall not fail his captain.” “What’s the news?” said I. “News enough,” he said; and I sat and listened to news, much of which was extraordinary.