“Now get something ’eavy and put on the top of it,” said Sam, having convinced himself that the lock was broken; “and, Billy, put the noo cat in the paint-locker till we start; it’s home-sick.” The boy obeyed, and the understudy was kept in durance vile until they were off Limehouse, when he came on deck and nearly ended his career there and then by attempting to jump over the bulwark into the next garden. For some time he paced the deck in a perturbed fashion, and then, leaping on the stern, mewed plaintively as his native city receded farther and farther from his view. “What’s the matter with old Satan?” said the mate, who had been let into the secret. “He seems to have something on his mind.” “He’ll have something round his neck presently,” said the skipper grimly. The prophecy was fulfilled some three hours later, when he came up on deck ruefully regarding the remains of a bird whose vocabulary had once been the pride of its native town. He threw it overboard without a word, and then, seizing the innocent cat, who had followed him under the impression that it was about to lunch, produced half a brick attached to a string, and tied it round his neck. The crew, who were enjoying the joke immensely, raised a howl of protest. “The _Skylark_’ll never have another like it, sir,” said Sam solemnly. “That cat was the luck of the ship.” “I don’t want any of your old woman’s yarns,” said the skipper brutally. “If you want the cat, go and fetch it.” He stepped aft as he spoke, and sent the gentle stranger hurtling through the air. There was a “plomp” as it reached the water, a bubble or two came to the surface, and all was over. “That’s the last o’ that,” he said, turning away. The old man shook his head. “You can’t kill a black cat for nothing,” said he, “mark my words!” The skipper, who was in a temper at the time, thought little of them, but they recurred to him vividly the next day. The wind had freshened during the night, and rain was falling heavily. On deck the crew stood about in oilskins, while below, the boy, in his new capacity of gaoler, was ministering to the wants of an ungrateful prisoner, when the cook, happening to glance that way, was horrified to see the animal emerge from the fo’c’sle. It eluded easily the frantic clutch of the boy as he sprang up the ladder after it, and walked leisurely along the deck in the direction of the cabin. Just as the crew had given it up for lost it encountered Sam, and the next moment, despite its cries, was caught up and huddled away beneath his stiff clammy oilskins. At the noise the skipper, who was talking to the mate, turned as though he had been shot, and gazed wildly round him. “Dick,” said he, “can you hear a cat?” “Cat!” said the mate, in accents of great astonishment. “I thought I heard it,” said the puzzled skipper. “Fancy, sir,” said Dick firmly, as a mewing, appalling in its wrath, came from beneath Sam’s coat.