Rose reddened again with so much real annoyance at this broad jest, that Captain Phillips offered a species of salt-water apology, which rather made the matter worse; so the handsome young doctor blushed too, all the more so, perhaps, that his soup was scalding hot, and the thermometer on the bulkhead stood at eighty in the shade. "After the rigs I have seen run by those who live by salt water," continued the jolly captain, "I have always thanked my stars--wherever they may be--that I am still a bachelor; yet had I, in other times, met such a young lady as you, Miss Rose, mayhap I'd have struck my colours and changed my mind--who knows? But perhaps things are best as they are." "You should be ashamed of saying so, captain," said Rose; "and I am certain that some one has missed a good kind husband, through your mistake." "Mayhap, miss, mayhap; but 'tis too late now for old Jack Phillips to 'bout ship, and make a fool of himself, by hauling up for the gulf of matrimony." "Gulf? Fie, captain!" exclaimed Rose; "you should call it a bay, or happy haven." "Do you know, captain, how they treated old bachelors in Sparta?" asked the doctor. "Stopped their grog, mayhap, or keel-hauled 'em, I shouldn't wonder." "They were stripped of their clothes, and in the coldest days of winter were forced to run through the principal streets, chanting songs, full of sharp sarcasms upon their own condition." "Deuced hard lines, doctor; was there any other nice little thing they made us do?" "Yes," resumed the doctor, furbishing up his Scotch latinity to punish the captain for making Rosa blush, "Athenæus, the grammarian of Naucratis----" "My eyes! there's a name to turn in of a night with!" "Well, he tells us that there was, every year, a laughable festival celebrated in a great temple, at which all the bachelors of a certain age were compelled to attend, that the ladies might taunt, mock them, and slap their faces as much as they pleased." Honest Phillips rubbed his curly head, the brown hair of which was becoming thickly seamed with gray, slapped his sturdy thigh, and burst into a hearty fit of laughter. "Overhaul the charts, Quail, and see where this same Sparta lies. Its latitude and longitude won't do for me, Sam. Another glass of wine, ladies, and then I must be off to relieve the deck, and let Mr. Manfredi down." The night that followed this day was peculiarly lovely--lovely even beyond what night is in the tropics at times. Mr. Basset, the captain, Mr. Quail, and the second mate were having a quiet rubber in the cabin; Hawkshaw had fallen asleep on one of the lockers, or pretended to do so; Rose and Dr. Heriot were promenading the deck aft the mainmast, in very close conversation, and Ethel was seated alone near the taffrail, at the stern of the _Hermione_, which was gliding through the water with an almost imperceptible motion, for the wind was light and steady.