first mate. It so happened, that at the very same moment
that they came on board, the first mate was ascending the companion
hatch, to order a boat to be lowered down and manned. When he perceived
Mr Berecroft, he fell back with astonishment, and turned pale.

"I thought you were gone," said he: "why, what could have saved you? did
you not drift out to sea?"

"It appears, then, Mr Jackson, that you knew that I was adrift," replied
the master, seriously, looking him steadfastly in the face.

"That is,"--replied the mate, confused--"I thought--of course, seeing
the boat was not alongside--that you had drifted away in her: how it
happened--of course, I know not."

"I should trust, for your conscience' sake, Mr Jackson, that you did
not; however, here I am again, as you see, by the blessing of
Providence, and the exertions of this young man, whom I must introduce
to you as our second mate."

Jackson cast an angry glance at Newton upon the conclusion of this
speech. The master had truly observed that it was strange the first mate
did not hear him when he had hailed the brig for assistance. The fact
was, that Jackson had both heard him and seen him; but he was a wretch
devoid of all feeling, who consulted nothing except his own interest. He
had made sure that the master would be carried out to sea, there to
perish by a most miserable death, and that he would succeed in command
of the vessel. He was then going on shore to report the supposed
"_falling overboard_" of the master: which, as the brig was to sail as
soon as the weather moderated, would have secured to him the command,
and, at the same time, have put an end to the search which (should he have
reported the truth) would immediately have taken place for the boat in
which the master had been adrift. Foiled in his hopes, by the courage of
Newton, Jackson had already formed towards him a deadly hatred and
determination of revenge.

That evening the wind abated, and the vessel sailed. The ensuing
morning she was clear of the sands, and a pilot-vessel off Holyhead
having received the pilot, she steered down the Irish Channel to join a
convoy for the West Indies, collecting at Falmouth.

Mr Berecroft, the master of the vessel, who has not hitherto been
described, was a spare, light-built person, of about sixty years of age,
still active, and a thorough seaman. He had crossed the ocean for
forty-five years, and his occasional narratives, as he walked the deck,
or sat