As I stretched myself out in my bunk that night, and reflected with a sigh of satisfaction that, if all went well, we should be once more at sea in less than twenty-four hours, the disagreeable suspicion for the first time obtruded itself upon my mind that possibly it might prove after all that I had been the victim of a clever swindle, and that I should never see anything more of any of the men to whom I had handed over two months' advance so confidingly. However, about eleven o'clock the next morning, the first of them--William Rogers, the man whom I had shipped as boatswain--put in an appearance alongside, neatly dressed in a new suit of blue cloth, with cap, shirt, and shoes to match; also a brand-new chest and bundle of bedding; and coming on board, quietly went below and proceeded to arrange his belongings for the voyage. I was agreeably surprised at this man's appearance; for whereas when I had shipped him on the previous day, he was ragged, dirty, and unkempt, he was now well-dressed, clean, and palpably fresh from the hands of the barber. Close upon his heels came Jacob Simpson, the cook, who had likewise undergone a renovating process that materially improved his appearance, although as I looked at the man there was a something about him that I did not quite like. For one thing, he seemed to remind me vaguely of somebody else--though who, I could not for the life of me say--who had left an unpleasant impression upon my mind; and, added to this, he was afflicted with an affection of the voice--the result of bush-fever, he informed me--which permitted him to speak only in a hoarse whisper. Next came Peter Gale, the man who had undertaken to perform the functions of steward, though he frankly admitted that he knew little or nothing about the duties of the post. But, since a steward we must have, and this man impressed me as being the most quiet and likely man for the berth, I had chosen him, since he had professed his readiness to try his hand and do his best. From this man I learned the pleasing intelligence that the remainder of the men were following him, and would be on board in about a quarter of an hour; so I introduced him to the lazarette, and directed him to obtain the cook's assistance to break out a fresh barrel of beef, and get a dinner under way for the crew forthwith. About the time named by the steward, the main body made their appearance and came quietly on board. There were eight of them, namely, Hiram Barr and James Mckinley, Americans; Michael O'Connor, an Irishman; Francois Bourdonnais, a Frenchman; Carl Strauss, a German; Christian Christianssen, a Swede; Pedro Villar, a Portuguese; and James Nicholson (nicknamed "San Domingo," from the island in which he was born), a full-blooded negro. They constituted a distinctly scratch crew, I was compelled to admit, as I watched them coming on board; but they all understood and spoke English; and although, with all