as a passenger but as a "hand." It is probable that
there never sailed out of Yarmouth a lad who was prouder of his position
than little Billy of the _Evening Star_. He was rigged from top to toe
in a brand-new suit, of what we may style nautical garments. His thin
little body was made to appear of twice its natural bulk by a
broad-shouldered pilot-cloth coat, under which was a thick guernsey. He
was almost extinguished by a large yellow sou'-wester, and all but
swallowed up by a pair of sea-boots that reached to his hips. These
boots, indeed, seemed so capacious as to induce the belief that if he
did not take care the part of his body that still remained outside of
them might fall inside and disappear.

Altogether--what between pride of position, vanity in regard to the new
suit, glee at being fairly at sea and doing for himself, and a certain
humorous perception that he was ridiculously small--little Billy
presented a very remarkable appearance as he stood that day on the deck
of his father's vessel, with his little legs straddling wide apart,
after the fashion of nautical men, and his hands thrust deep into the
pockets of his sea-going coat.

For some time he was so engrossed with the novelty of his situation, and
the roll of the crested waves, that his eyes did not rise much higher
than the legs of his comparatively gigantic associates; but when
curiosity at last prompted him to scan their faces, great was his
surprise to observe among them Joe Davidson, the young man who had
plucked the cigar from his lips in Yarmouth.

"What! are _you_ one o' the hands, Joe?" he asked, going towards the man
with an abortive attempt to walk steadily on the pitching deck.

"Ay, lad, I'm your father's mate," replied Joe. "But surely _you_ are
not goin' as a hand?"

"That's just what I am," returned Billy, with a look of dignity which
was somewhat marred by a heavy lurch causing him to stagger. "I'm part
owner, d'ee see, an' ready to take command when the old man retires, so
you'd better mind your helm, young man, an' steer clear of impudence in
future, if you don't want to lead the life of a dog aboard of this here
smack."

"I'll try, sir," said Joe Davidson, touching his forelock, while a
humorous twinkle lit up his bright eyes.

"Hallo! Billy!" shouted the skipper, who was steering; "come here, boy.
You didn't come aboard to idle, you know; I've let you have a good look
at the sea all for nothin'. It's time now tha