"I don't like the look of the sky to-day, Tom," said the captain,
glancing at the horizon and then at the sails.

"Indeed!" said Tom, in surprise. "It seems to me the most beautiful
afternoon we have had since the voyage began. But I suppose you seamen
are learned in signs which we landsmen do not understand."

"Perhaps we are," replied the captain; "but it does not require much
knowledge of the weather to say that such a dead calm as this, and such
unusual heat, is not likely to end in a gentle breeze."

"You don't object to a stiff breeze, uncle?" said the youth.

"No, Tom; but I don't like a storm, because it does us no good, and may
do us harm."

"Storms do you no good, uncle!" cried Tom; "how can you say so? Why,
what is it that makes our sailors such trumps? The British tar would
not be able to face danger as he does if there were no storms."

"True, Tom, but the British tar would not require to face danger at all
if there were no storms. What says the barometer, Mr Mansell?" said
the captain, looking down the skylight into the cabin, where the first
mate--a middle-sized man of thirty-five, or thereabouts--was seated at
the table writing up the ship's log-book.

"The glass has gone down an inch, sir, and is still falling," answered
the mate.

"Reef the topsail, Mr Dicey," cried the captain, on hearing this.

"Why such haste?" inquired Gregory.

"Because such a sudden fall in the barometer is a sure sign of
approaching bad weather," answered the captain.

The first man on the shrouds and out upon the main-topsail yard was Sam
Baker, whose active movements and hearty manner showed that he had quite
recovered his health without the use of physic. He was quickly followed
by some of his shipmates, all of whom were picked men--able in body and
ready for anything.

In a few minutes sail was reduced. Soon after that clouds began to rise
on the horizon and spread over the sky. Before half an hour had passed
the breeze came--came far stronger than had been expected--and the order
to take in sail had to be repeated. Baker was first again. He was
closely followed by Joe Davis and Jim Croft, both of them sturdy
fellows--good specimens of the British seaman. Davy Butts, who came
next, was not so good a specimen. He was nearly six feet high, very
thin and loosely put together, like a piece of bad furniture. But his
bones were big, and he was stronger than he looked. He would not have
formed one of