"Hullo!" exclaimed the ship's steward, who acts as master of the ceremonies in this daily allowance of drink to the ship's company, assisted by one of the corporals, and sometimes even by the master-at- arms himself, the purveyor of the grog recognising him as having previously received his quota. "What do you want here? You've had your 'lowance already!" Joblins, however, was reluctant to give up the chance of getting an additional supply without a struggle for it, so, he would not accept this rebuff. "They sez below, sir," explained he, still holding out the spud-net straight in front of him, "as how I wer to tell yer, sir, as I wur a noo hand, an' yer would give I a second 'lowance." "Oh, you're a new hand are you?" "Ay," replied Joblins, in a very satisfied tone, thinking the matter was now satisfactorily settled. "That I be, sir." "I thought so," said the ship's steward drily. "What are you going to put the grog in if I gave it to you?" Joblins did not reply in words, but held out the net. "Well," exclaimed the steward, with a grin on his face that was reflected in that of every one standing by, "I've heard of green hands and greenhorns before; but of all the raw johnnies I ever saw on board ship you take the cake!" Strange to say, such was his denseness, that even then, the yokel could not see the point of the joke and the steward had to order him away. "Now, clear out of this," he cried, getting a bit angry when his laugh was out. "Don't you see, you fool, if you can see anything at all, that the rum would run out of the net like water out of a sieve? Be off with you!" Then at last the poor chap recognised the fact that Harris had been `taking him in,' and darted down the ladder with the obvious intention of `taking it out' of his tormentor; but the shout of merriment with which he was received when he got forward amongst the men again, stopped his saying anything, and the watch being just then called, his anger had time to evaporate before he had any further chance of calling his tormentor to account. The weather continuing on the mend, the commodore gave orders to the officer of the watch, soon after dinner, to shape a course for Madeira, that being the appointed rendezvous of the squadron in the event of their parting company at any time in this first part of our cruise; for we had seen nothing of any of them since the beginning of the gale, the little _Ruby_ being the last we had sighted shortly before our being forced to lie-to. During the afternoon, however, the horizon clearing to the nor'ard and a gleam of sunshine lighting up the sea, a distant sail was seen hull down on our lee quarter. "Signalman," hailed the officer of the watch, "what do you make her out to be?" "Can't say yet, sir," replied the man, with the glass screwed to his eye, squinting to leeward. "She's too fur off, sir." After a short pause the officer repeated his question. "Make her out yet, Jones?"