nsidering the part of the world to
which you are bound," I remarked. "You will have to keep a sharp eye
upon the weather, and call me in good time if you should be in the least
doubt as to what you ought to do. Has either of you ever been this way
before?"

They had not, it appeared.

"And what about your forecastle crowd?" I asked. "Are they all good,
reliable men? Some of them are foreigners, aren't they?"

"Yes," answered Enderby, lowering his voice and drawing me away from the
vicinity of the man at the wheel. "Yes, worse luck, our four A.B.s are
all foreigners. Not that I've got anything very special to say against
'em. They're good sailor-men, all of 'em; but the fact is, sir, I don't
like bein' shipmates with foreigners; I don't like their ways, and some
of 'em has got very nasty tempers. There's Svorenssen, for instance--
that big chap with the red hair and beard--he's a Roosian Finn; and
he've got a vile temper, and I believe he's an unforgivin' sort of
feller, remembers things against a man--if you understand what I mean.
Then there's `Dutchy', as we calls him--that chap that pushed hisself
for'ard when we hoisted in your boat--he's an awk'ard feller to get on
with, too; hates bein' ordered about, and don't believe in discipline.
He and Svorenssen will both be in my watch, and I'll see to it that they
minds their P's and Q's. The other two aren't so bad; but they'd be a
lot better if Svorenssen and Dutchy was out of the ship."

"Ah, well," I said, "we are five Englishmen to four of them. If they
should take it into their heads to be insubordinate I have no doubt we
shall know how to deal with them. And now, I should like to have a look
at the log-book. I suppose you know where it is kept?"

"Yes," answered Enderby, "the skipper used to keep it in his cabin.
Billy'll give it you, and show you all you want to see. He knows where
his father kept everything. Oh! and I forgot to mention it, but
supper'll be on the table at seven o'clock."

"Righto!" I returned as I wheeled about and headed for the companion.

CHAPTER FOUR.

I TAKE COMMAND OF THE "YORKSHIRE LASS."

"Billy, my boy, where are you?" I called, as I entered the cabin.

"Here I am, sir," replied the lad, emerging from what had been his
father's state-room. "Is there anything I can do for you, sir?"

Billy Stenson was certainly an amusing and very lovable little chap as
he stood there before me, alert and bright-eyed, remi