foreboding of evil; but on the present occasion there were ample reasons for dreading mischief. "To my mind, if we were to furl every stitch of canvas, and send down our topmasts, we should be acting like seamen," said old Popples, as I was forward, attending to some duty. "Why do you say that?" I asked. "The sea is like glass, and there's no wind, nor chance of any, as far as I can judge." "Because I haven't sailed round the world for the last forty years with my eyes shut, Mr D'Arcy," he replied. "Be sure, when the weather's like this, there's no slight gale coming on; but the commander is a good seaman, and I suppose he'll give the order soon." The commander, however, did not seem to apprehend any immediate change of weather. Not so Mr Pullen. Whenever he went into the cabin, he found that the silver in the barometer had sunk lower than ever; and each time he came on deck, looking more anxious than before. After some time spent in watching the sky to the northward, he walked up to the commander. "Captain Cranley, sir," said he, "it's my duty to tell you that, in my opinion, this weather won't last many hours longer--not to say minutes, perhaps; and if the squall I look for catches us with all this canvas set, it will carry the masts over the side to a certainty." "It's the custom in the service generally for officers to wait till their opinion is asked," replied the commander, turning on his heel, and taking a few more turns on the quarter-deck. At last he stopped, and looked out towards the northward and westward, where a thick mass of clouds was banking up, each instant rising higher and higher. "Mr Fairman," he said, to the first-lieutenant, "call all hands to shorten sail; put the brig under double-reefed topsails. Whichever way the squall comes, we mustn't be frightened at it this time, eh?" The command was quickly obeyed, but the air remained as stagnant as ever. Still old Popples was not satisfied. "We are better so than we were before, I'll allow," he remarked; "but the gale, when it does begin to blow, will, to my mind, be a regular hurricane, and we shall be glad to run before it under bare poles. Mark my words, Mr D'Arcy!" Boatswains do not always deliver their opinion thus freely about their captain; but old Popples was privileged, at all events with us midshipmen. Mr Pullen shrugged his shoulders and said nothing, though he evidently held the same opinion as the boatswain. The commander had just retired to his cabin, while the master continued his walk, turning his eye every now and then towards the quarter whence he expected the wind to come. Suddenly he stopped. "Here it is!" he exclaimed. "Up with the helm--square away the afteryards."