All hands then went below for a smoke, except the man at the tiller, and Kisseck and Christian, who stood talking at the bow. It is true that Danny Fayle lay on the deck, but the lad was hardly an entity. His uncle and Christian heeded him not at all, yet Danny heard their conversation, and, without thought of mischief, remembered what he heard. Christian was talking earnestly of some impending disaster, of debts, and the near approach of the time when his father must be told. "I've put that man off time after time," he said; "he'll not wait much longer, and then--God help us all!" Kisseck laughed. "You're allis in Paddy's hurricane--right up and down," he said, jeeringly. "Yer raely wuss till ever." "I tell you the storm is coming," said Christian, with some vexation. "Then keep your weather eye liftin', that's all," said Kisseck, loftily. Christian turned aside with an impatient gesture. After a pause he said, "You wouldn't talk to me like that, Kisseck, if I hadn't been a weak fool with you. It's a true saying that when you tell your servant your secret you make him your master." Then Kisseck altered his manner and became suave. "What's to be done?" said Christian, irritated at some humiliating compliments. "I've somethin' terrible fine up here," said Kisseck, tapping his forehead mysteriously. Christian smiled rather doubtfully. "It'll get you out of this shoal water, anyhow," said the skipper. "What is it?" asked Christian. "The tack we've been on lately isn't worth workin'. It isn't what it was in the good ould days, when the Frenchmen and the Dutchmen came along with the Injin and Chinee goods, and we just run alongside in wherries and whipped them up. Too many hands at the trade now." "So, smuggling, like everything else, has gone to the dogs," said Christian, with another grim smile. "But I've a big consarn on now," whispered Kisseck. "What?" "Och, a shockin' powerful skame! Listen!" And Kisseck whispered again in Christian's ear, but the words escaped Danny. "No, no, that'll not do," said Christian, emphatically. "Aw, and why not at all?" "Why not? _Why_ not? Because it's murder, nothing less." "Now, what's the use of sayin' the lek o' that. Aw, the shockin' notions. Well, well, and do ye raely think a person's got no feelin's? Murder? Aw, well now, well now! I didn't think it of you, Christian, that I didn't." And Kisseck took a step or two up and down the deck with the air of an injured man. Just then Crennel, the cook, came up to say breakfast was ready. All hands, save the men at the tiller, went below. A huge dish of herrings and a similar dish of potatoes stood on the table. Each man dipped in with his hands, lifted his herrings onto his plate, ran his fingers from tail to head, swept all the flesh off the fresh fish, and threw away the bare backbone. Such was the breakfast; and while it was being eaten there was much chaff among the men at Danny Fayle's expense. It was--