Astern of Ralph’s ship lay the three other awkwardly-built, high-prowed vessels, the rising tide seething past their anchor cables, which quivered and vibrated in the rushing eddy. Every rope and pulley, mast and yard, and fluttering bannerole stood out velvety brown against the pale primrose, the orange gold, the purple and grey of the western sky, while the still waters of that large mere reflected the solemn shadowy hills, and the brilliant light of the departed sun. The grey green mist of evening was creeping over the distance, and the evening star flickered its glinting light across the purling water. There was silence in nature, but not in man. Sounds of merriment arose from the idly floating ships; songs and laughter, and shouts to their friends upon the shore, where the flickering firelight showed that many were camping out to take the last view of their relatives. Ralph could have wished to be alone: the noises jarred upon his feelings. He moved away from the taffrail, where he had been sitting watching the bubbles of the tide as it eddied under the stern post. Dicky Cheke met him. That youth had already assumed quite a nautical air, and was casting his eye aloft with all the assurance of an old sea dog. "Well met, Ralph," he said. "We shall have an air o’ wind anon, when the moon’s set, and the tide’s done flowing. You mark my words. And hark ye, my son, doubtless as this is thy first trip to sea thou’lt feel squeamish a bit, I reckon. Now, take my advice, eat a hunk o’ fat bacon, and quaff off a pint or so of good ale; ’twill fortify thy stomach, and things won’t come so much amiss afterwards. I’m going to have a right merry feed with Maurice by-and-by. Thou hadst best join us." And Master Cheke rolled off in proper sea-going fashion, whistling, much to Ralph’s amusement. But certainly that part of his remarks about the breeze was true. A crisp little puff came off the land, blurring the soft reflection of wood and hill, and star and purple sky; and as the tide had nearly done, the skipper of the Captain’s ship gave orders to weigh anchor and set sail. [Illustration: HOW THEY LEFT ST. HELENS, I.W.] This was joyous news. The cable was shortened until it was nearly up and down. The large jib was run up to the foremast, and the foresail dropped down from the yard, and with a "Yeo, heave, yeo, break her out, my boys," the heavy anchor was hauled up to the cathead, and the voyage had begun. Slowly the ship moved through the still flowing tide, but as each sail was set, and the night breeze came stronger, she gathered way and rippled through the whispering sea. The vessels astern had followed the example of the Captain’s ship, and were stemming the tide behind. Cheer upon cheer came from the shore, answered by ringing shouts from the ships. The decks and rigging were crowded with lusty men, waving scarves and caps, and cheering till the welkin rang again.