vain, the boats were hoisted up, and the hands called
to make sail. I was officer of the forecastle and on looking about to
see if all the men were at their station, missed one of the fore-top
men. Just at that moment I observed some one curled up, and apparently
hiding himself under the bow of the barge, between the boat and the
booms. 'Hillo!' I said, 'who are you? What are you doing there, you
skulker? Why are you not at your station?'

'I am not skulking,' said the poor fellow, the furrows in whose
bronzed and weatherbeaten cheek were running down with tears. The man
we had just lost had been his messmate and friend, he told me, for ten
years. I begged his pardon, in full sincerity, for having used such
harsh words to him at such a moment, and bid him go below to his birth
for the rest of the day--'Never mind, sir, never mind,' said the kind
hearted seaman, 'it can't be helped. You meant no harm, sir. I am as
well on deck as below. Bill's gone sir, but I must do my duty.' So
saying, he drew the sleeve of his jacket twice or thrice across his
eyes, and mustering his grief within his breast, walked to his station
as if nothing had happened.

In the same ship and nearly about the same time, the people were
bathing along side in a calm at sea. It is customary on such occasions
to spread a studding-sail on the water, by means of lines from the
fore and main yard arms, for the use of those who either cannot swim,
or who are not expert in this art, so very important to all seafaring
people. Half a dozen of the ship's boys were floundering about in the
sails, and sometimes even venturing beyond the leech rope. One of the
least of these urchins, but not the least courageous of their number,
when taunted by his more skilful companions with being afraid, struck
out boldly beyond the prescribed bounds. He had not gone much further
than his own length, however, along the surface of the fathomless sea,
when his heart failed him, poor little man; and along with his
confidence away also went his power of keeping his head above the
water. So down he sank rapidly, to the speechless horror of the other
boys, who of course, could lend the drowning child no help.

The captain of the forecastle, a tall, fine-looking, hard-a-weather
fellow, was standing on the shank of the sheet anchor with his arms
across, and his well varnished canvass hat drawn so much over his eyes
that it was difficult to tell whether he was awake or merely dozing