this
side of Ushant."

"You don't tell me!" says Jacka. "How the dickens did they let you go?"

"Well," answers the Dutchman, "I took the precaution of fitting myself
_with two sets of papers_. Oh," says he, as Jacka lets out a low
whistle, "it's the ordinary thing in our line of business. So you just
do as I tell you and make the boards as long as you please, for I'm
dropping with sleep in my boots. Keep the ship going, and if you sight
anyone that looks like trouble just give me a hail down the companion,
for I can talk to any frigate, British or French."

With that he bundled away below, and Jacka, after a word or two with the
man at the helm, to make sure they understood enough of each other's
lingo, settled down with his pipe for the night's work.

The wind held pretty steady, and the _Van der Werf_ made nothing of the
cross-seas, being a beamy craft and fit for any weather in a sea-way.
Jacka conned her very careful, and decided there was no use in driving
her; extra sail would only fling up more water without improving her
speed. So he jogged along steady, keeping her full and by, and letting
her take the seas the best way she liked them. Towards morning he even
began to doze a bit, till warned by a new motion of the ship that she
wasn't doing her best. He opened his eyes and shouted--

"Up with your helm, ye lubber! Hard up, I tell ye, and keep her full!"

A pretty heavy spray at that moment came over the bow and took him fair
in the face, and he stumbled aft in none too sweet a temper. Then he
saw what had happened: the fresh hand at the wheel had dozed off where
he stood and let the _Van der Werf_ run up in the wind. The fellow was
little more than a boy, and white in the face with want of sleep.
Captain Jacka was always a kind-hearted man. Said he, as he flung the
spokes round, and the _Van der Werf_ began to pay off: "Look here, my
lad, if you can't keep a better eye open, I'll take a trick myself.
So go you forward and stow yourself somewheres within call."

With that he took the helm, and glad of it, to keep himself awake; and
so held her going till daybreak.

By eight in the morning, just as the light began creeping, and Jacka was
calculating his whereabouts, he lifted his eye over the weather-bow,
and--

"Hullo!" he sings out. "What's yonder to windward?"

The lad he'd relieved jumps up from where he'd been napping beside the
bitts, and runs forward. But, whatever he sang out, Jac