se to do."

"Well, can you tell me whether there are any boarding-nettings in the
ship?" I asked.

"Boarding-nettings!" answered the boatswain. "Oh yes, sir; I came
across what I took to be a pile of 'em down below in the sail room,
yesterday."

"Good!" said I. "Then let them be brought on deck at once, and see that
all is ready for tricing them up, should those boats succeed in getting
dangerously near to us."

"Ay, ay, sir!" answered the man. And away he hurried forward to attend
to the matter.

Then I turned to the gunner.

"Mr Pringle," said I, "have the goodness to get the arm-chest on deck,
and see that the crew are armed in readiness to repel those attacking
boats."

"I hope it may not come to that, Mr Grenvile," said the gunner; "if it
does, I'm afraid it'll be a pretty bad look-out for some of us,
considerin' our numbers. But, of course, it's the only thing to do."
He took a look round the horizon, directed his gaze first aloft, then
over the side, and shook his head. "The sun's eating up what little air
there is," he remarked gloomily, "and I reckon that another ten minutes
'll see us without steerage way." And he, too, departed to carry out
his instructions.

There seemed only too much reason to fear that the gunner's
anticipations with regard to the wind would prove true; but while I
stood near the transom, watching the steady relentless approach of the
boats--which were by now almost within gunshot of us--I suddenly became
aware of a gentle breeze fanning my sun-scorched features, and the
slight but distinct responsive heel of the schooner to it; and in
another minute we were skimming merrily away at a speed of quite five
knots under the benign influence of one of those partial breezes which,
on a calm day at sea, seem to spring up from nowhere in particular, last
for half an hour or so, and then die away again. In the present case,
however, the breeze lasted nearly two hours before it failed us, by
which time we had left the brig hull-down astern of us, and had enjoyed
the satisfaction of seeing the boats abandon the chase and return to
their parent ship.

These partial breezes are among the most exasperating phenomena which
tax a sailor's patience. They are, of course, only met with on
exceptionally calm days, and not always then. They consist simply of
little eddies in the otherwise motionless atmosphere, and are so
strictly local in their character that it is by no means uncommon