The sailor had been so much filled with surprise at the suddenness of
all this, that he could scarcely speak. Immediately after the
departure of the old gentleman, he said, "Well, good-bye, mistress,
good-bye, Bob," and throwing on his hat in a careless way, left the
room.

"Stop!" I shouted after him, when he had got about half-way down stair.

"Hallo! wot's wrong now?"

"Nothing; I only forgot to ask your name."

"Tom Lokins," he bellowed, in the hoarse voice of a regular boatswain,
"w'ich wos my father's name before me."

So saying, he departed, whistling "Rule, Britannia," with all his
might.

Thus the matter was settled. Six days afterwards, I rigged myself out
in a blue jacket, white ducks, and a straw hat, and went to sea.

CHAPTER II

AT SEA

My first few days on the ocean were so miserable that I oftentimes
repented of having left my native land. I was, as my new friend Tom
Lokins said, as sick as a dog. But in course of time I grew well, and
began to rejoice in the cool fresh breezes and the great rolling
billows of the sea.

Many and many a time I used to creep out to the end of the bowsprit,
when the weather was calm, and sit with my legs dangling over the deep
blue water, and my eyes fixed on the great masses of rolling clouds in
the sky, thinking of the new course of life I had just begun. At such
times the thought of my mother was sure to come into my mind, and I
thought of her parting words, "Put your trust in the Lord, Robert, and
read His Word." I resolved to try to obey her, but this I found was no
easy matter, for the sailors were a rough lot of fellows, who cared
little for the Bible. But, I must say, they were a hearty,
good-natured set, and much better, upon the whole, than many a ship's
crew that I afterwards sailed with.

We were fortunate in having fair winds this voyage, and soon found
ourselves on the other side of the _line_, as we jack-tars call the
Equator.

Of course the crew did not forget the old custom of shaving all the men
who had never crossed the line before. Our captain was a jolly old
man, and uncommonly fond of "sky-larking". He gave us leave to do what
we liked the day we crossed the line; so, as there were a number of
wild spirits among us, we broke through all the ordinary rules, or,
rather, we added on new rules to them.

The old hands had kept the matter quiet from us greenhorns, so that,
although we knew they were going to do some sort