or how could people manage to get about the world as rapidly
as they find necessary for their business or pleasure?"

Gerard thought that this remark would be a poser for the boatswain; but
old Fleming was not so easily defeated.

"As to the matter of the compass, do you see, that's what I call an
exception to the general rule," he answered, with a serious look. "But
as for the railways and steam-engines, and all those sort of things
afloat or ashore, to my mind the world would be altogether much better
without them. It's necessary for sailors to go about, that's granted;
but the rest of the world would be very much better staying at home and
minding their own business. What I preach I practise; and when I leaves
home I says to my missus, says I, `Now mind, Molly, don't you be going
gadding about till I comes back to look after you;' and she'd no more
think of going outside the street-door, except when she goes to church
or a-marketing, than she'd try to fly, and that would be no easy matter
for her, seeing that she weighs thirteen stone at least."

Such is a specimen of old Fleming's style of conversation. Gerard and I
used to be much amused while listening to him, though we did not fail to
make the most of his remarks while repeating them to the mates. James
Pincott the carpenter, on the contrary, was a great reformer. No
invention was too new to suit his taste. Whenever he heard of any
discovery, he could not be contented till he saw it introduced. We
often tried to get the two together, and very soon managed to throw an
apple of discord between them. Pincott occupied much of his thoughts
about a flying-machine, which no failure had taught him to believe could
not be made to work.

"I'll tell you what, mate, there's just this difference between you and
me in this matter," I heard Fleming remark; "you says a flying-machine
can be made; so do I. You may make fifty flying-machines, or a hundred,
or five hundred for that matter, all different, and with all sorts of
wheels, and cogs, and what not, which nobody can understand; but when
they are made, what I have to ask you, mate, is, will they fly? It's
there you and I differ."

Having thus delivered himself, Fleming drew himself up with a triumphant
look at his adversary. Now, Pincott was a very quiet man with all his
eccentricities, so he merely answered--

"It will be enough for me if one can be made to fly. That's all I argue
for."

"It never has