Then with a thud his portmanteau was deposited on the floor of the fo'c'sle, and Stockton's voice was heard: "Here, bear a hand, and get this thing into the cabin." Gerald hastened to give the requested assistance. This time the small of his arched back came into violent contact with the top of the doorway communicating with the fo'c'sle. Thereupon, acting with more discretion, he slowly dragged his belongings into the cabin, and sat down upon one of the sofa-bunks. By degrees he recovered his ruffled composure, and took a careful survey of his limited surroundings. A glance in a bevelled mirror revealed the fact that his encounter with the deck-beam had had the effect of crumpling his collar into a series of longitudinal creases. "It's time I put a sweater on," he thought, and opening his portmanteau he produced one of those thick, serviceable articles, and measuring the distance between his head and the deck-beams--a margin of barely 6ins.--Tregarthen removed his collar and plunged into his sweater. This done his sense of comfort was materially increased. [Illustration: There was the sound of a hasty scuffling; then appeared the head and shoulders of the owner of the _Playmate_] "Now what do you propose doing?" he asked, as the crew of the _Playmate_ tackled a hearty supper. "Going west?" "I thought of making a dash across the Channel. Any objection?" Tregarthen whistled. "Bit risky, isn't it?" "I don't think so. This packet is as stiff as a house; the gear's sound, and all the stores are aboard." "You've a compass, of course?" "A little beauty." "Then I'm game. By the bye, have you seen to-day's paper?" "No; I went ashore, but quite forgot to get one. Why--anything startling?" "Only this," replied Gerald, producing the newspapers he had purchased on the journey, and pointing to the _Zietan_ paragraph. "What do you think of it?" "Not much," replied Jack, in a matter-of-fact tone. "At any rate, I don't suppose it will affect us." "When do you propose to make a start?" Stockton did not immediately reply, but, gaining the cockpit, he unlaced a portion of the awning. "Now if you like," he replied. "The young flood has set in, though, but with the wind in this quarter we can stem it and pick up the east-going tide outside. Just hand me down that bundle of charts." Gerald did so, and his chum picked out one of the English Channel. "We ought to make St. Catherine's before daybreak," continued Jack "And then with a decent slice of luck we can make a slant across and pick up Cape Barfleur before sunset. It's barely fifty miles as the crow flies. So we'll get under way now, and when we are outside the harbour you can turn in. I had a good spell below during the day, so a night's watch won't trouble me." "All right; I'm game," repeated Tregarthen. Twenty minutes later the _Playmate_ was heeling over to the steady breeze. Her voyage, that was fated to be the forerunner of a wealth of peculiar adventures, had begun.