“I don’t know; but the meaning seems plain enough.” “Oh! then I must tell you how you know. By instinct. By inheritance. Just as the blind kitten knows a dog the instant it scents his approach. I should think you would know not only what dirty weather means, but also the signs of its coming.” “Even I, who am neither a sailor nor the son of a sailor, can tell the signs of its presence,” said Wynnette. “They are a ship deluged with rain and dilapidated by wind, slopped all over by waves, and holding several hundred human wretches, all deadly sick at their stomachs. If that is not dirty weather, I don’t know the meaning of words.” “And that is just such weather, Miss Wynnette, as we shall be likely to have, more or less, for the next ten days, or longer. And the officers and men know it and are preparing for it. But never you mind, little Jack Tar. We shall not go down. And as for the rest, you can stand the storm. You’re a natural born sailor!” As the old skipper spoke the signal gun was fired, and the _Asia_ steamed out of the cove. The sun had now set behind a heavy bank of clouds. The wind had risen with more force than on the preceding evening, and blew so freshly that all the passengers, with the exception of a few weather-beaten men and well-seasoned voyagers, went below. All our party, with the exception of the old skipper and his little niece Rosemary, not only went down, but turned in to be looked after by the hard-worked stewardess, or not unfrequently by one of the stewards. “You don’t want to go below to the stifling cabins, do you, now, little Jack Tar?” inquired Capt. Grandiere of his small companion. “No, Uncle Gideon, I do not, indeed. I should much rather stay up here with you as long as I may,” replied the child. “Thought so! And so you may. Ah! if Heaven had given me such a boy!” “But, Uncle Gideon, although I can walk the deck when the ship is rolling, without falling or turning sick, I know I should not make a good sailor boy,” said Rosemary. “Why not, pray? I say you would make a splendid sailor boy! Why, every one of the passengers has gone down and turned in as sick as dogs, and here you are as well as I am!” “But I couldn’t be a sailor boy, because——” “Because what?” “Because I should be afraid to climb the ropes and things so high. I should be afraid of falling on the deck and killing myself, or falling into the sea and getting drowned,” pleaded Rosemary. “Now, don’t go to tell me that you have inherited your sailor forefathers’ sea heads and sea legs without their stout hearts! Don’t go to tell me that!” said the skipper, taking his pipe from his mouth and staring down at his little companion. The quaint little creature looked so ashamed of herself that the old man took pity on her, and said: