Macallan was too partial to Captain M--- to refuse, and fortunately had imbibed a strong regard for Willy, whose romantic history, early courage, and amiability of disposition, had made him a general favourite. Macallan, therefore, willingly undertook the tuition of a boy who combined energy or mind with docility of disposition and sweetness of temper. There could not have been selected a person better qualified than the surgeon for imparting that general knowledge so valuable in after-life; and, under his guidance, Willy soon proved that strong intellectual powers were among the other advantages which he had received from nature. The _Aspasia_ flew before the trade winds, and in a few weeks arrived at Barbadoes, where Captain M--- found orders left by the admiral of the station, directing him to survey a dangerous reef of rocks to the northward of Porto Rico, and to continue to cruise for some weeks in that quarter, after the service had been performed. In three days the frigate was revictualled and watered; and the officers had barely time to have their sea arrangements completed, before the frigate again expanded her canvas to a favourable breeze. In a few hours the island was left so far astern as to appear like the blue mist which so often deceives the expectant scanner of the horizon. "You Billy Pitt! is all my linen come on board?" "Yes, sar," replied Billy, who was in Courtenay's cabin; "I make bill out; just now cast up multerpication of whole." "I'm afraid you very often use multiplication in your addition, Mr Billy." "True bill, sar," replied Billy, coming out of the cabin, and handing a paper to Courtenay. "What's this?--nineteen tarts! Why, you black thief, I never had any tarts." "Please let me see, sar," said Billy, peering over his shoulder. "Yes, sar, all right--I count em. Tell washerwoman put plenty of tarch in collar." "Shirts, you _nigger_--why don't you learn to spell with that dictionary of yours?" "Know how to spell very well, sar," replied Billy, haughtily; "that my way spell `_tarts_.'" "`Fourteen tockin, seventeen toul.'--You do know how to spell to a T." "Massa Courtenay, doctor not write same way you write." "Well, Mr Billy." "You not write same way me--ebery gentleman write different hand. Now, if ebery gentleman write his own way, why not ebery gentleman spell his own way? Dat my way to spell, sar," continued Billy, very much affronted. "I can't argue with you now, Mr Billy--there's one bell after four striking, and I have hardly had a glass of wine, from your bothering me. Upon my soul, its excessively annoying." "One bell, Mr Courtenay!" cried Jerry at the gun-room door; "Mr Price will thank you to relieve him." "I say, Mr Prose," continued Jerry, as he passed through the steerage to return on deck, "I'll just trouble you to hand your carcase up as soon as convenient." "Directly, Jerry,--I--will--but my tea--is so hot."