casting off ropes and getting the booms prepared; until,
anon, the captains of the fore and maintops and the captain of the
forecastle, as well as the gunner's mate, whose task it was to see to
the main topmast studding sail, reported "All ready!"

Therefore the lieutenant, with a deeper bellow than before, shouted
"Sway away!"

In an instant, the watch on deck, bending on to the halliards with a
will, hoisted the gleaming white sails aloft and sheeted them home;
when, bellying out before the northerly breeze, they expanded their
folds, making the yardarms creak again, and looking like the wings of
some gigantic seabird, the ship herself bearing out the resemblance and
swooping away in a heavy lurch to leeward, after apparently preening her
pinions for a fresh flight, being now a perfect pyramid of canvas from
truck to deck.

"Mr Adams," called out Mr Bitpin presently from the poop, evidently in
obedience to some quiet order given by the captain, to the midshipman,
who of course stood immediately below his superior officer on the
quarter-deck, "heave the log again and tell me what she's going now!"

"Very good, sir," replied Frank Adams; and, after the necessary interval
of heaving the log-ship over the side to leeward and counting the knots
on the line while the fourteen-second glass held by the quartermaster
was running out, he sang out "She's going nearly ten, sir."

"Ah!" muttered Captain Farmer, who had come down the poop-ladder and was
waiting for the news before returning to his cabin, as he passed the
marine sentry before disappearing within the sliding door, expressing
his thoughts aloud, "That's better, much better--I thought she could do
it with this wind!" It was a beautiful afternoon; and, from its being
Sunday, several of the wardroom officers came on deck after luncheon,
having nothing especial to do below.

Amongst the lot were Dr Nettleby and Mr Nipper, the paymaster.

I also observed on the poop the Reverend Mr Smythe and "Joe" Jellaby,
who had contrived to secure sufficient snoozing, during the odd moments
when he was off duty since the morning, to make up for the sleep he had
lost by going to the admiral's ball and there meeting the witching houri
of his dreams, "that chawming gurl," who had subsequently prevented him
from taking his proper rest when he came aboard in the small hours of
the middle watch.

The chaplain seemed to have taken a fancy to "Joe," for he stuck on to
him as soon as