This
opportunity came, of course, in due time; and, though the fair
helmswoman at first found the task far more difficult that she had ever
imagined it could possibly be, she soon developed such extraordinary
skill that Ned's prophecy at length became literally fulfilled, Captain
Blyth gradually getting into the way of turning to Miss Stanhope when
any exceptionally fine steering had to be done--as, for instance, when
some contumacious craft ahead persistently refused to be overhauled--and
saying, "I am afraid there is no resource but to invoke your aid, my
dear young lady; we shall never overtake yon stranger unless you will
oblige us with a few of your scientific touches of the wheel."
Whereupon Sibylla, looking very much gratified, would make some laughing
reply, and forthwith take the wheel, keeping the bows of the _Flying
Cloud_ pointing as steadily for the strange sail as though they had been
nailed there, always with the most satisfactory result.

It was perhaps only a natural consequence of Ned's assiduous "coaching"
of Miss Stanhope in the helmsman's art that the formal relations usually
subsisting between passengers and officer should to a certain extent
have given place to a kind of companionship, almost amounting to
_camaraderie_, between these two young people. The seamen were almost,
if not quite, as quick as their skipper in detecting what was going
forward; and it is not very surprising that, with their love of romance,
they should forthwith regard the handsome young mate and his pupil as
the hero and heroine of an interesting little drama. This view of the
affair afforded the men for'ard intense gratification. Ned was
exceedingly popular with them; and the tars regarded the conquest with
which they so promptly credited him almost as a compliment to
themselves, and a triumph to which each might claim to have contributed,
even though in ever so slight and indirect a way. It will be seen later
on that this fancy on the part of the crew was the means of placing
Sibylla in a most trying situation.

A few days later a sad fatality occurred. The ship was somewhat to the
eastward of the Cape, going nine knots, with her topgallant-sails
furled, the wind blowing very fresh from the northward, and a
tremendously heavy swell running. Captain Blyth, the mate, and Ned were
all on the poop, busy with their sextants, the hour being near noon,
when, the ship giving a terrific lee-roll, Mr Willoughby lost his
ba