assed through the
mate's hand, as he jerked the line of the reel, always keeping it at a
stretch.

"Stop," sung out Bowse, as the sand had run out of the upper end of the
glass.

"Done," said the mate, and stopped the line.

He had not to count the knots run off, for his experienced eye was able
to tell the number by the mark on the line. It must be understood that
this line is divided into a certain number of equal parts, each of which
bears the same proportion to a mile, which thirty seconds do to an hour,
and therefore, as the log-ship remains stationary in the water,
according to the number of these proportions dragged through, while the
sand is running, so is shown how many miles or knots the vessel is going
through the water.

"Six and a quarter," exclaimed the mate. "That's what I call good going
for a ship with a full cargo, in a breeze like this."

"That's what we call heaving the log, Miss Garden," said the master, who
had been explaining the use of the log, though in not quite so succinct
a way as I have attempted to do. "You'll be able to turn the glass
another time, I'm sure."

The glass runs, in reality, only for twenty-eight seconds, as two are
considered to be employed in turning it.

Ada, who enjoyed an advantage over the reader, by having the operation
performed before her eyes, answered that she clearly understood it, and
would always, in future, hold the glass.

"By this calculation, you see, miss, as it is just two hours since we
passed Fort Saint Elmo, we have run exactly twelve knots and a half off
the reel; though we didn't go through the water so fast at first, as we
are now doing. However, by the look of the land, I calculate we are not
much less than that off it. You see we call miles--knots, miss, on
account of the knots which are marked on the line. When we can just see
the last of some conspicuous point, we shall take its bearing by compass
and its distance, and then I shall commence pricking the ship's course
off on the chart, and that is what we call taking our departure. Now
you see there's many people on shore would fancy that when we left the
port we took our departure; but the ties which bind a seaman to the
shore, and to those we leave behind, are not so quickly parted as they
may think, you see, miss." And the honest master, chuckling at one of
the first attempts at wit and gallantry of which he had ever been
guilty, thought the next instant he blushed at his own a