s and golden sun-risings, and purple
mists, and transparent haze; and yet, onward--onward, without pause--she
flew upon the wings of the wind like a great white dove released from
some fowler's snare and panting for the untrammelled freedom of the wide
wide sea.

So day after day passed, and everything went on in regular routine on
board, without any incident of note occurring to break the monotony of
the voyage, the English sailors keeping to themselves, and the Malays
apart, without either mixing or speaking with the others save when the
duties of the ship called them into temporary association.

Kifong, the serang, however, they could see was wide-awake, and
observant of all that went on around him. He was particularly anxious
about the saloon and the passenger: and was continually trying to
interrogate Snowball as to what went on within the privileged retreat,
to which none else of the crew were admitted. What struck him more than
anything else was the amount of food which the black cook was preparing,
and carrying from the galley into the cabin.

"What for you takee so muchee prog, black-man, in dere for?" he said one
day to Snowball, much to that individual's indignation at the reference
to his colour, which he always most studiously ignored.

"What for, mister yaller man? Why, for eat, sure!"

The Malay's eyes gleamed like a serpent's, and he showed his teeth like
a snarling dog.

"Five men no eatee that much prog," he said in an angry tone. "You tell
one lie, black-man."

"Lie yourself, yaller nigger," said the darky. "You no tink dat four
officers and de passenger gen'leman all eat muchee food; very good
appeta-tites havee."

The serang walked away from Snowball with a strong expression of doubt
in his face, and ever afterwards seemed to bear a particular ill-will to
the darky, laying traps to trip him up on his passage to and fro between
the galley and the cabin when heavily laden with dishes for Mr
Meredith's gigantic meals.

VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER FOUR.

A STRANGE SAIL.

The ship sailed on serenely, making from two hundred to two hundred and
fifty knots in each twenty-four hours run--on some exceptional occasions
clearing indeed as much as three hundred, to the great jubilation of the
men--until one day, at noon, Captain Morton announced that they were in
the same parallel as the Thousand Islands, and rapidly approaching the
Straits of Sunda.

This wide channel of the sea, separating th