he former: the latter consisted in his
being able to read and write a legible hand, which was a rare
accomplishment in those days. He had saved a little money, and was
allowed as a special favour to invest to the extent of eight
sixty-fourth shares in the vessel he commanded. He never lost an
opportunity of making his less fortunate compatriots feel that he was
immeasurably their superior. Many of them who commanded the same class
of vessel were so impressed with his influence over the owners that
they looked upon his friendship as being of some value. Being part
owner, his privileges were wide; in fact he was admitted within the
owner circle, and contributed to the wisdom thereof in many eccentric
ways.

The two little brigs were bound to the Baltic, and the first day out a
heavy press of canvas was carried in order to get a good offing, lest
the wind and sea should make and catch them tight on a lee shore. After
they had been out twenty-four hours they both tacked off Flamborough
Head, bearing west twenty miles, and stood to the N.E. The _Silverspray_
passed close under the stern of the _Francis Blake_. The captains
saluted each other as was the custom. The _Blake's_ captain shouted
that his vessel was making a lot of water. The other responded: "We are
making some too, and we shall have more wind and sea before there is
less." This was about ten on a February morning. Their sailing
qualities were pretty much on a par, so that they were kept in company
all through the day. The wind had shifted from E.S.E. to S.E., and they
headed E.N.E. with about two and a half points leeway, making the true
course, after the toss of the sea had been allowed, about N.E. So long
as daylight remained no canvas was taken in, though both of them were
sometimes plunging their jibbooms under, and their bows almost level
with the foremast. Every bit of rigging and running gear was strained
to its maximum limit. There was no question of racing or foolhardiness,
but a pressing necessity to flog them off a lee shore.

And this reminds me that only six years before, I innocently committed
a serious breach of nautical faith for which I was roundly reprimanded
by a kindly sailor. It was my first voyage at sea. I had not seen
thirteen summers by many months. I heard two sailors who were standing
by the lee side of the windlass end conversing about the seriousness of
the vessel's position. One said to the other that if the wind did not
norther a