d descending the companion-ladder, and the next moment the
second mate appeared at its foot, in the act of turning into his own
state-room.

"Well, Mr Cross," said the skipper, "what is the news from the deck?
You have tacked ship, it seems; is there a change of wind?"

"No, sir," answered Cross; "the wind still holds steady at about west,
though it seems a little inclined to back half a point or so to the
south'ard, and it's clouded over again and gone very dark. We tacked at
midnight, sir, according to your orders."

"Midnight!" ejaculated George; "you surely do not mean to say it is
midnight already, Cross?"

"About a quarter after it, sir," answered the second mate with a smile.
"You've slept sound, sir, I expect; and time has travelled fast with
you."

"I must have slept sound indeed," answered the skipper; "to me it seemed
that I had hardly fallen asleep when I was awakened by the flapping of
the canvas. Well, I'll not keep you from your bunk; I shall go on deck
and take a look round before I turn in again. Good-night."

"Good-night, sir," was the reply; and the second mate opened the door of
his berth and passed in, whilst George sprang lightly up the
companion-ladder and stepped out on deck.

It was indeed, as the second mate had said, very dark; so much so that
the skipper, having just left the cabin, where a lamp was dimly burning,
was unable to see anything for a moment or two. Then, as his eyes grew
accustomed to the darkness, he caught first a glimpse of the man at the
wheel, his form faintly illuminated by the binnacle light, then the
figure of the mate, just turning near the taffrail to walk forward, and
finally the dark, shadowy pile of canvas towering away aloft until it
melted into the general obscurity.

"It has gone very dark again, Mr Bowen," remarked the skipper, as the
mate, becoming aware of George's presence on deck, joined him.

"It _is_ dark, sir," answered the mate, "almost too dark to be poking
about here in the Channel without lights."

"It is rather risky, I admit," returned George; "still, I do not think
it is so dangerous as showing our lights; that would simply be hanging
out an invitation to those prowling French privateers to pounce down on
us. How is her head?"--to the man at the wheel, George and the mate
having by this time strolled aft together.

"No'th, half west, sir," was the reply.

"Come, that is not so bad," remarked George. "We shall fetch Plymouth
yet