“No, miss. How can the sea swallow us? She rides like a cork, and there is the skipper bailing her out, to make her lighter still. No; I'll tell you, miss; all we have got to mind is two things; we must not let her broach to, and we must not get pooped.” “But _why_ must we not?” “_Why?_ Because we _mustn't.”_ “But I mean, what would be the consequence of--broaching to?” Jack opened his eyes in astonishment. “Why, the sea would run over her quarter, and swamp her.” “Oh!! And if we get pooped?” “We shall go to Davy Jones, like a bullet.” “Who is Davy Jones?” “The Old One, you know--down below. Leastways you won't go there, miss; you will go aloft, and perhaps the skipper; but Davy will have me; so I won't give him a chance, if I can help it.” Lucy cried. “Where are we, Mr. Jack?” “British Channel.” “I know that; but whereabouts?” “Heaven knows; and no doubt the skipper, he knows; but I don't. I am only a common sailor. Shall I hail the skipper? he will tell you.” “No, no, no. He is so angry if we speak.” “He won't be angry if you speak to him, miss,” said Jack, with a sly grin, that brought a faint color into Lucy's cheek; “you should have seen him, how anxious he was about you before we came alongside; and the moment that lubber went forward to dip the lug, says he, 'Jack, there will be mischief; up mainsail and run down to them. I have no confidence in that tall boy.' (He do seem a long, weedy, useless sort of lubber.) Lord bless you, miss, we luffed, and were running down to you long before you made the signal of distress with your little white flag.” Lucy's cheeks got redder. “No, miss, if the skipper speaks severe to you, Jack Painter is blind with one eye, and can't see with t'other.” Lucy's cheeks were carnation. But the next moment they were white, for a terrible event interrupted this chat. Two huge waves rolled one behind the other, an occurrence which luckily is not frequent; the boat, descending into the valley of the sea, had the wind taken out of her sails by the high wave that was coming. Her sails flapped, she lost her speed, and, as she rose again, the second wave was a moment too quick for her, and its combing crest caught her. The first thing Lucy saw was Jack running from the helm with a loud cry of fear, followed by what looked an arch of fire, but sounded like a lion rushing, growling on its prey, and directly her feet and ankles were in a pool of water. David bounded aft, swearing and splashing through it, and it turned into sparks of white fire flying this way and that. He seized the helm, and discharged a loud volley of curses at Jack. “Fling out ballast, ye d--d cowardly, useless lubber,” cried he; and while Jack, who had recoiled into his normal state of nerves with almost ridiculous rapidity, was heaving out ballast, David discharged another rolling volley at him.