hicken-heart to be frightened at a blue
pigeon!" said Corbett, laughing and looking out of the window; "at all
events, he has come back again, and there he is sitting by the white
one."

"It's the first time that ever I was called chicken-hearted," replied
Morrison, in wrath.

"Nor do you deserve it, Morrison," replied Pickersgill; "but Corbett is
only joking."

"Well, at all events, I'll try my luck in the same way, and see whether
I am to be in jail: I shall take the blue pigeon as my bad omen, as you
did."

The sailors and Captain Pickersgill all rose and went to the window, to
ascertain Corbett's fortune by this new species of augury. The blue
pigeon flapped his wings, and then he sidled up to the white one; at
last, the white pigeon flew off the wall and settled on the roof of the
adjacent house. "Bravo, white pigeon!" said Corbett; "I shall be here
again in a week." The whole party, laughing, then resumed their seats;
and Morrison's countenance brightened up. As he took the glass of wine
poured out by Pickersgill, he said, "Here's your health, Corbett; it was
all nonsense, after all--for, d'ye see, I can't be put in jail, without
you are. We all sail in the same boat, and when you leave me you take
with you everything that can condemn the vessel--so here's success to
our trip."

"We will all drink that toast, my lads, and then on board," said the
captain; "here's success to our trip."

The captain rose, as did the mates and men, drank the toast, turned down
the drinking-vessels on the table, hastened to the wharf, and, in half
an hour, the _Happy-go-lucky_ was clear of the port of Saint Malo.

CHAPTER FOUR.

PORTLAND BILL.

The _Happy-go-lucky_ sailed with a fresh breeze and a flowing sheet from
Saint Malo, the evening before the _Arrow_ sailed from Barn Pool. The
_Active_ sailed from Portsmouth the morning after.

The yacht, as we before observed, was bound to Cowes, in the Isle of
Wight. The _Active_ had orders to cruise wherever she pleased within
the limits of the admiral's station; and she ran for West Bay, on the
other side of the Bill of Portland. The _Happy-go-lucky_ was also bound
for that bay to land her cargo.

The wind was light, and there was every appearance of fine weather, when
the _Happy-go-lucky_, at ten o'clock on the Tuesday night, made the
Portland lights; as it was impossible to run her cargo that night, she
hove to.

At eleven o'clock the Portland lights were mad