'The same as'll make me glad to get to New York,' answered Mr. Prunes, putting on his cap, and caressing the tassel, whilst his eyes met in a squint of earnestness in the grog-flowered countenance of Mr. Tweed. He paused, and seemed to reflect. 'What is it?' said Mr. Tweed. Mr. Prunes began to nod at him, and then said in a low, confidential voice, and a glance aft at the companion-hatch: 'She's in want of that sort of mate which ashore they calls a husband.' 'Ha!' said Mr. Tweed; 'and it drove the other chap out of a good berth?' 'Well, there was a many quarrels, I believe, afore they got to Calcutta. Thinking that I might stand the better with her, seeing that I'm middling young, and that the sea hasn't robbed me of all that I owe to my mother, who was the handsomest woman in Shadwell, I kept dark about my 'ome, and to this bloomed hour she don't know that I've got a wife and three young uns awaiting my return in the little house I left 'em in at Stepney.' 'I'd up and tell her the truth, if I were you,' said Tweed. A gleam of cunning twinkled in Mr. Prunes's eyes. 'I've been pretty comfortable for eighty days,' said he, 'under an error. There's no call now to correct it, seeing that the end of the voyage isn't fur off.' Whilst he spoke, Captain Lind and Mr. and Miss Vanderholt were coming on deck. The captain sang out in a shrill, bantam-like voice, that caused Prunes to glance somewhat sheepishly at Tweed: 'The lady and gentleman are going aboard their schooner! See their boat all ready!' Then, springing on to the rail with wonderful activity, she hailed the _Mowbray_, and asked Captain Glew for his latitude and longitude. This she received, and entered upon a piece of paper with a face of triumph. Then, turning to Mr. Vanderholt, she exclaimed: 'See here, sir! A mile out, and the error may be his.' 'I am lost in admiration, I assure you,' said Vanderholt. 'I would rather have met this barque than the _Flying Dutchman_. It will be far more interesting to me to talk about than an apparition. It is really, captain, an extraordinary departure! I wish you prosperity, I am sure, ma'am.' He bowed low. The captain of the _Wife's Hope_ then shook hands cordially with Miss Vanderholt. Tweed got into the boat, and the party returned to the _Mowbray_. Just before sunset a breeze came right along the red, shortening shaft of glory, as though it blew out of the sun. Both vessels immediately trimmed for their respective courses, and in an hour's time the _Wife's Hope_ had vanished in the starlit dusk of the evening. CHAPTER V. ON THE EVE. It was five days later, and in that time the _Mowbray_ had drawn four hundred miles closer to the Equator, still leaving a wide expanse of water to be measured. The weather had been of a constant tropic beauty. The heave of the Atlantic swell had the wide and solemn indolence of the South Pacific fold.