Thus saying, he went forward to serve a topgallant-stay that was stretched across the forecastle-hatch from the cat-heads, and had just been spliced by the men, followed by an old-fashioned sea-urchin, a miniature of the tar, with a mallet in his hand. The captain, although a firm, intelligent man, and little given to such notions of fate as are generally entertained by sailors, who never shake off the spiritual imaginings of the forecastle, displayed some discomfiture of mind at the strong character of the mate's misgivings. He knew him to be a good sailor, firm in his duty, and unmoved by peril. This he had proved on several occasions when sailing in other vessels, when the last ray of hope seemed to be gone. He approached the mate again, and with a pretence of making inquiries about the storage of the cargo, sounded him further in regard to his knowledge of the Bahamas, and with special reference to the port of Nassau. “Six-tenths of her timbers are as rotten as punk,” said the mate; “this North American timber never lasts long; the pump-wells are defective, and when we carry sail upon her, they don't affect the water in the lee-bilge, and she rolls it through her air-streaks like a whale. She'll damage the best cargo that ever floated, in that way. Take my word for it, skipper, she'll never go across the Banks; she'll roll to splinters as soon as she gets into them long seas; and if we get dismasted again, it's gone Davy.” “I know the old scow before to-day, and wouldn't shipped in her, if I hadn't been lime-juiced by that villanous landlord that advanced me the trifle. But I seen she was as deep as a luggerman's sand-barge, and I popped the old cat overboard, just as we rounded the point coming out o' Kingston harbour,” said a fine, active-looking sailor, who bore every trait of a royal tar, and boasted of serving five years in the East-India service, to his shipmate, while he continued to serve the stay. His words were spoken in a whisper, and not intended for the captain's ears. The captain overheard him, however; and, as a vessel is a world to those on board, the general sentiment carries its weight in controlling its affairs. Thus the strong feeling which prevailed on board could not fail to have its effect upon the captain's mind. “Well, we'll try her at any rate,” said the captain, walking aft and ordering the cabin-boy to bring up his glass; with which he took a sharp look to the southward. “I'd shape her course for a southern Yankee port. I haven't been much in them, but I think we'll stand a better chance there than in these ports where they make a speculation of wrecking, and would take a fellow's pea-jacket for salvage.” “We're always better under the protection of a consul than in a British port,” said the mate, coming aft to inform the skipper that they had carried away the chains of the bobstay, and that the bowsprit strained her in the knight-heads. CHAPTER II. THE STEWARD'S BRAVERY.