way to
Whiddlecombe Regis, or even have heard of such a place; and now here I
was, after a perilous experience, launched upon the high seas, bound for
a distant colony, and that without any will of my own in the matter.
Well, when I got there, I could always arrange a return passage. I had
some means of my own--not enough to keep me without working, unless I
chose to live upon what would amount to the wages of an artisan.
Therefore there was nothing to cause me serious anxiety, unless it were
that my berth would probably be filled up. But, as I have hinted, the
tenure of it was somewhat precarious, so some consolation lay that way,
and I could doubtless find another. So I reasoned, forgetting that
after all we are blind and helpless instruments in the hands of Fate, a
lesson which my experience so far might well have reminded me--certainly
in total unconsciousness of what stirring experiences, perilous and
otherwise, lay between now and when I should once more behold the
English coastline.

"You seem a good sailor, at any rate, Mr Holt," said the captain,
breaking in upon my meditations.

"Why, I never thought of feeling seasick," I answered. "It didn't occur
to me."

"No? Well, you're all right then. If we've done, I would suggest a
turn on deck. If we get a bad blow, you may not be able to get there
for a while, so better make the most of it now."

CHAPTER THREE.

SOUTHWARD.

A stirring and lively scene met my gaze as I emerged from the
companion-way. A great waste of roaring tumbling seas, their dull green
mountainous masses breaking off into foamy crests as they swooped down
upon us, only to swing under the keel and roar on afresh in a moving
mountain beyond. The sky, a great flying scud which glimpses of sickly
sunshine strove here and there to pierce. White gulls hovered and
darted, squealing; and, thrown out in a cloud of proud magnificence
against the inky sky to the westward, a homeward-bound ship, under a
full spread of canvas, was thundering over the boil of billows, dashing
the white spray before her in cataracts.

From the poop-deck I could see for the first time what manner of craft I
was in. The _Kittiwake_ was an iron steamer of just under two thousand
tons, brig rigged; and the water was pouring from her forecastle as she
dipped her nose into the meeting of the green seas. Some of the hands
were running up the foresail to the accompaniment of a shrill nautical
chant, and the b