"Honoured Sir,--Keep a bright look-out ahead, and haul every sheet taut. Them as you thought was sharks a showing their teeth warn't only shams. Take all you gets, and clap 'em under hatches, and, whatever you do, don't be deceived by false colours, nor hail ships as seems enemies." "There," I says to myself, when I'd got that printed out careful, "if he can't make that out, he can't understand nothing;" for, I put it to you, what could I have said clearer, and yet made so as no one else could understand? It seemed to me that I'd just hit the mark, and the next thing was to get it to him. Who'd ever have thought, I says, that that long doubling-up chap, as we all made such fun of with his little birds, would have turned in so useful; and then I got what you big people call moralising about everybody having their use on earth, without it was mutineers, whose only use seemed to me to be finding work for the hangman. I got no chance to send my note that day, through people being about; next day, too, nothing came of it; but early the next morning, soon after daybreak, I got my little messenger out, tied the paper to his wing with a bit of worsted out of my kit, and then going on deck, I let him fly, but so as not to take the attention of the chap at the wheel, I started him from up in the main-top, where I made-believe to have gone to have a smoke. There was a watch of three forward, but they were all half asleep; while as for him taking his trick at the wheel, he kept on nodding over his job, and letting the ship yaw about till she went anyhow. Bless the pretty little thing! When I first opened my hand, it only sat there looking at me with its bright beady eyes, and then it was so tame, it hopped upon my shoulder, to stay a few seconds, before flitting from rope to sheet and shroud, lower and lower, till it perched upon the cabin skylight, and rattled out a few clear crisp notes, like a challenge to its master, who, I felt sure, would be asleep. My only hope was that the little thing would flit through the big hole I made, and stay in the cabin till Tomtit was up. But I was wrong, for the bird had no sooner sung its sweet note, putting one in mind of old boyish days when we used to go bird-nesting, than I saw a hand thrust up through the broken light, and after a little fluttering, the bird let itself be caught, when, knowing that my job was done, I came slowly down, and walking aft, stood and talked to the chap at the wheel. "Hollo!" I says, all at once, "there's one o' my birds got loose;" and running forward, and making a good deal of fuss, I captured the little linnet, for it never flew far at a time, having been tamed and petted by Mr Butterwell till it was almost like a little Christian.