Just when the little boy was about to run along the decks an immense, magnificent Newfoundland dog sprang through the companion-hatch as though it had missed the little fellow below. The dog instantly saw the boy, and they sped forward together, the beautiful animal often bounding to the height of the boy's head in its delight in his company. The men on the forecastle all looked at them as they came, and those who walked stood still to watch them coming. The instant the dog was forward it swept its sagacious, beaming eyes, fuller of intelligence than many which look out of human faces, round the ocean line, and when it saw the sail to windward it set up a deep baying bark, a very organ note, grand in tone as the solemn stroke of a great bell, which, translated, as clearly signified, "Sail ho!" as the setting of the sun denotes the coming of night. "Where away, Sailor?" shouted Hardy from the quarter-deck, and the seamen laughed out, whilst the dog, after one glance aft, pointed his noble head in the direction of the ship, and lifting up his nose to heaven barked deeply twice, which was his English for _starboard_. The seamen laughed loudly again. Johnny beat a roll on the drum, and the sailors gathered round him, and others came springing up through the forescuttle, which is the name of the little hatch through which you drop into the forecastle or living room of the crew. The boy beat that drum marvellously well; he made it rattle as though a regiment marched behind him, and the sails on high rattled in echo as though several phantom drummers were stationed in various parts of the rigging. The dog lay down and watched the boy, and a few of the seamen, one after another, went up to it and stroked its head. "Where's the man that's got the whistle?" said Johnny, ceasing to beat. "Where's Dicky Andrews?" shouted a man, and another, going to the scuttle, cried down, "Below there! tumble up, Dicky, and bring your whistle with you; you're wanted on deck." In a few moments a young ordinary seaman rose through the hatch: he was slightly curved in the back without being humped, and carried the face of the hunchback, the corners of his mouth being puckered into a dry aspect of advanced years, such as may often be observed in people who are afflicted with spinal complaints. He was red-haired, and his little eyes were full of humour and as lively as laughter itself, and he wore the togs of the merchant Jack--dungaree for breeches, an old striped shirt, a dirty flannel jacket, and a cap without a peak. "All right, Master Johnny," said he, pulling a fife out of his pocket. "What shall it be, sir?" "What shall it be, my lads?" asked Johnny, looking round with his sweet, delightful smile and arch-blue eyes at the weather-stained faces of the men, one of whom was a negro, another a Dane, brown as coffee, two others Dagos, with frizzled hair and silver hoops in their ears; and these this boy of eight had called "My lads."