"Next morning was fine, and promised to be hot; the ship still with a side-wind from near south-west, which 'twas easy to see had slackened since midnight with a pour of rain, the sails being all wet, and coats hung to dry in the fore-rigging; she was going little more than five or six knots headway. The water was bluer, lifting in long waves, scarce a speck of foam except about the ship; but instead of having broke up with the sun, or sunk below the level, the long white clouds were risen high to leeward, wandering away at the top, and facing us steady below out of the sky, a pretty sure sign they had more to do. However, the Indiaman was all alive from stem to stern; decks drying as clean as a table; hens and ducks clucking in the coops at their food; pigs grunting; stewards and cabin-boys going fore and aft, below and above, and the men from aloft coming slowly down for breakfast, with an eye into the galley funnel. Most of the passengers were upon deck, in knots all along the poop-nettings, to look out for Corvo and Flores, the western-most of the Azores, which we had passed before daybreak. "'I say, Fawd!' said the warlike cadet with the moustache, all of a sudden yawning and stretching himself, as if he'd been struck with the thing himself, 'cussed dull this vessel already, ain't it?' 'No,' said Ford, the nautical man; 'that's because you're not interested in the ocean--the sea--as I am! You should study the _craft_, Bob, my boy! I'll teach you to go aloft. I only wish it would blow harder--not a mere capful of wind, you know, but a tempest!' 'By Jove! Fawd,' said the other, '_how_ we _shall_ enjoy India--even that breakfast with old Rollock! By-the-by, ain't breakfast ready yet?' These two fellows, for my part, I took for a joint-model, just trying to hit a mid-helm betwixt them, else I couldn't have got through it; accordingly they both patronised me. 'Haw, Cawlins!' said one, nodding to me. 'Is that you, my boy?' said the other; 'now, you're a fellow _never_ would make a sailor!' 'I daresay not,' I said gravely, 'if they have all to commence as horse-marines.' 'Now, such ignorance!' said Ford; 'marines don't ride horses, Collins, you fellow!--how d'you think they could be _fed_ at sea, eh?' 'Well--now--that didn't occur to me!' said I, in the cadet key. 'Fawd, my boy, you know too much--you're quite a sea-cook!' 'Oh, now! But I'm afraid, Winterton, I never shall land ashore in India--I _am_ tempted to go into the navy, instead.' 'I say, Mr Ford,' put in a fat unlicked cub of a tea-middy, grinning as he listened, 'I've put you up to a few _rises_ aboard, but I don't think I told you we've got a dozen or so of _donkeys_[11] below in the steerage?' 'Donkeys!--no?' said the griffin. 'Yes,' replied the midshipman; 'they kick like mad, though, if they get loose in a gale: why mine, now, would knock a hole through the side in no time--I'll show you them for a glass of grog, Mr Ford.' [11] Sea slang for sailors' chests.