the bridge for one minute,
the weather being awful. Fogs, icebergs, and the elements all combined
to make it a most anxious time for the one man in charge of the valuable
vessel and her cargo of 1,700 souls, and during the whole period the
unflinching skipper had not tasted a mouthful of food. The Captain's
boy, feeling for his master, had from time to time endeavoured with some
succulent morsel to make him break his long fast; but the firm face of
the Captain was set, his eyes were fixed straight ahead, and his ears
were deaf to the lad's appeal. It was breakfast time when the boy once
more ventured to ask the Captain if he could bring him something to eat.
This time he got an answer.

"Yes," growled the Captain, "bring me two larks' livers on toast!"

These Atlantic Captains of the older school were a hardened and humorous
lot of navigators, and many a story of their eccentricity survives them:
one in particular of an old Captain seeing the terror of the junior
officer during that nervous ordeal of treading the bridge for the first
time with him. This particular old salt, after a painful silence, turned
on the young man and said, "I like you. I'm very much impressed by you.
I've heard a lot about you--in fact, my dear sir, I should like to have
your photograph. You skip down and get it."

The nervous and delighted youth rushed off to his cabin, and informed
his brother officers of the compliment the old man had just paid him. He
was in luck's way, and running gaily up on to the bridge, presented his
photograph, blushing modestly, to the old salt.

"'Umph! Got a pin with you?"

"Ye--es, sir."

"Ah, see! I pin you up on the canvas here. I can look at you there and
admire you. You can go, sir; your photograph is just as valuable as you
appear to be on the bridge. Good morning."

The Captain of the ship I was on had his chessmen pegged, and holes in
the board into which to place them, so that despite any oscillations of
the ship they would remain in their places; but the unfortunate part of
the business was that although he could provide sea-legs for his
chessmen it was more than he could do for his opponent, and it was as
good as a play to see Signor "Lib" hiding from the Captain when the
weather was not all it might be, and he in consequence felt anything but
well. One mate after another would be despatched with the strictest
orders from the Captain to search for the cheerless chessite; but after
a time the Capt