ongitude,
anywhere west of Greenwich and north of the line that is not
inconsistent with blue water.

The name "Irish Pennant" is given, on the _lucus-a-non_ principle, (just
as a dead calm is "an Irish hurricane, straight up and down,") to any
dangling end of rope or stray bit of "shakings," and its appropriateness
to the following sketches will doubtless be perceived by the reader, on
reaching the end.

The question was asked, not so much from a laudable desire of obtaining
information as to set the captain talking. It was a mistake on my part.
Sailors do not like point-blank questions. They remind them
unpleasantly, I suppose, of the Courts of Admiralty, or they betray
greenness or curiosity on the asker's part, and thus effectually bar all
improving conversation.

There is one exception. If the inquirer be a lady, young and fair, the
chivalry of the sea is bound to tell the truth, the whole truth, and
often a good deal more than the truth.

And at the last reply a pair of bewitching dark eyes were turned upon
that weather-beaten mariner; that is to say, in plain English, a young
and rather pretty lady-passenger looked up at Captain Cope, and said,--

"Do tell us some of your sea-stories, Captain Cope,--do, please!"

"Why, Ma'am," replied he, "I've no stories. There's Smith of the
'Wittenagemot' can tell them by the hour; but I never could."

"Weren't you ever wrecked, Captain Cope?"

"No,--I can't say I ever was, exactly. I was mate of the 'Moscow' when
she knocked her bottom out in Bootle Bay; but she wasn't lost, for I
went master of her after that."

"Were you frightened, Captain Cope?"

"Well, no,--I can't say I was; though I must say I never expected to see
morning again. I never saw any one more scared than was old Captain
Tucker that night. We dragged over the outer bar and into Bootle Bay,
and there we lay, the ship full of water, and everything gone above the
monkey-rail. The only place we could find to stand was just by the cabin
gangway. The 'Moscow' was built with an old-fashioned cabin on deck, and
right there we hung, all hands of us. The old man he read the service to
us,--and that wouldn't do, he was so scared; so he got the black cook,
who was a Methodist, and made him pray; and every two minutes or so, a
sea would come aboard and all in among us,--like to wash us clean out of
the ship.

"After midnight the life-boat got alongside, and all hands were for
scrambling aboard; but I'd got