with
that tearin' o' the net an' the gale that's just gone, an' that book,
you know--"

"Ah!" interrupted Jim, "you mustn't lay the blame on the book, Evan. I
haven't bin sittin' up _very_ late at it; though I confess I'm uncommon
fond o' readin'. Besides, it's a good book, more likely to quiet a
man's mind than to rouse it. How we ever got on without readin' before
that mission-ship came to us, is more than I can understand! Why, it
seems to have lifted me into a new world."

"That's so. I'm fond o' readin' myself," said Evan, who, although not
quite so enthusiastic or intellectual as his friend, appreciated very
highly the library-bags which had been recently sent to the fleet.

"But the strange thing is," said Jim, returning to the subject of his
impressions--"the strange thing is, that my mind is not runnin' on
danger or damaged gear, or books, or gales, but on my dear wife at home.
I've bin thinkin' of Nancy in a way that I don't remember to have done
before, an' the face of my darlin' Lucy, wi' her black eyes an' rosy
cheeks so like her mother, is never absent from my eyes for a moment."

"Want o' sleep," said the practical Evan. "You'd better turn in an'
have a good spell as long as the calm lasts."

"You remember the patch o' green in front o' my cottage in Gorleston?"
asked Jim, paying no attention to his mate's advice.

"Yes," answered Evan.

"Well, when I was sittin' for'ard there, not half-an-hour since, I seed
my Nancy a-sittin' on that green as plain as I see you, sewin' away at
somethin', an' Lucy playin' at her knee. They was so real-like that I
couldn't help sayin' `Nancy!' an' I do assure you that she stopped
sewin' an' turned her head a-one side for a moment as if she was
listenin'. An' it was all so real-like too."

"You was dreamin'; that was all," said the unromantic Evan.

"No, mate. I wasn't dreamin'," returned Jim. "I was as wide awake as I
am at this moment for I was lookin' out all round just as keen as if I
had not bin thinkin' about home at all."

"Well, you'd as well go below an' dream about 'em now if you can,"
suggested Evan, "an' I'll keep a sharp look-out."

"No, lad, I can't. I'm not a bit sleepy."

As Jim said this he turned and went to the bow of the smack.

At that moment the muffled sound of a steamer's paddles was heard.
Probably the fog had something to do with the peculiarity of the sound,
for next moment a fog-whistle sounded its harsh tone close at h