off second best. Once more the
anchor was hove up, and with a fair breeze we ran past the Nore, and
stood down Channel under all sail. Captain Gunnell was the name by
which our new master was known. I asked Mr Henley what sort of a man
he was.

"I sailed with him once, and I had hoped never to sail with him again,"
was his unsatisfactory reply.

CHAPTER THREE.

AT SEA--A SURLY MATE--SOLON'S ASTONISHMENT AT SEEING THE OCEAN--THE BAY
OF BISCAY--MADEIRA--FUNCHAL--VISIT ON SHORE--STORY OF THE DISCOVERY OF
MADEIRA--TRIP TO THE PICO--TOMMY BIGG--ROUGHNESS OF CREW.

At length we were fairly on our voyage, far away out on the wide ocean
without the most distant glimpse of land. Nothing but dark, heaving,
white-crested waves around us. To me, as I looked over the bulwarks,
the scene was inexpressibly strange, and grand, and awe-producing. I
should have liked to have been for a short time perfectly alone, to have
enjoyed it to the full, not another human being near me, with only
Solon, my dumb companion, by my side. Far more I could have enjoyed it,
I thought, than among the noisy, quarrelling crowd of passengers who
formed the little coarsely composed world confined within those wooden
walls, as the expression runs. Still, I did not think that I could have
endured the solitude I wished for during any long period, but felt that
I should soon have been glad to return to the midst of my noisy
associates, Solon seemed as much surprised as I was when, looking out
first at one port, then through the other, he found that there was no
land to be seen. Several times he ran backwards and forwards, evidently
trying to settle in his mind the state of the case. At last he was
satisfied; then came up and licked my hand, as much as to say,--"I
understand it all now, master. We are embarked in the same boat; and
whatever befalls us, I intend to stick by you." Thanks to Mr Henley's
kindness, I had been allowed to arrange a berth for Solon just outside
his cabin, between two chests, and within sight of my hammock. I made a
mattress for him with some bits of old canvas stuffed with straw; for
although a dog will do well enough even without a rug on the quiet
ground, when a ship is pitching and rolling about he is very much the
better for something soft to protect his ribs, as well as to keep him
off the damp deck. He was also able in his snug corner to save himself
from slipping about. Mr Grimes, I suspect, never discovered