own on the deck.

Horner then told us that the captain had taken a couple on board at Hull
to kill the rats, and that although a hutch had been made for them the
creatures always managed to get out at night for the sake of obtaining a
warm berth, and that if we put them into their hutch they would be sure
to find their way back again into his or Esdale's bunks before they had
been many minutes asleep.

The truth was the ferrets were more afraid of the rats than the rats
were of them. We bore the annoyance for three nights more, and then, by
the unanimous consent of our mess, we got Horner to carry them down into
the hold, from which they never ascended, and we concluded that they
either got drowned in the bilge water or were eaten up by the rats.

We had not been long at sea before a heavy gale sprang up, but as the
wind was from the westward we were able to lay our course.

To Jim and me it mattered very little, although the waves were much
higher than I had seen them in the North Sea, but poor Esdale suffered
very much, and Horner's conceit was taken down a good many pegs. Jim
and I did our best to look after them, and to try to get them to eat
something, but they could only swallow liquids.

"Oh, let me alone! Let me alone!" cried Horner.

The doctor came to see Esdale frequently, and advised that he should be
taken to a spare berth in the cabin, but the captain would not allow it.

"All lads get sick when they first come to sea if there's a gale of
wind, and he'll come round again by-and-by," he remarked in his usual
off-hand way.

This was not told to Esdale, who said, indeed, that he preferred
remaining where he was.

As the weather was tolerably warm, I believe that he was as well off on
the half-deck as he would have been in the cabin.

At last the gale came to an end--or rather we ran out of it. Esdale got
somewhat better again, but I observed that he had changed greatly in
appearance since we came on board.

I had now to abandon all hopes of the ship putting back, but there was
still a possibility of getting on board a homeward-bound vessel.

Two days after the gale had ceased, while I was below, I heard the cry
of "Sail, ho!" from the man at the masthead.

I hurried on deck. We had the wind abeam, and so had she--a soldier's
wind as it is called. We should meet the approaching vessel before long
and pass each other, with not a cable's length between us.

I watched her eagerly. We drew c