, it's that sea-cook, Larry O'Hale," cried Muggins aloud; "he was
always over fond o' talking."

Larry, who at the first sound had slipped away to his hammock, shouted
from under the blankets, "Ye spalpeen, it's no more me than yersilf;
sure I'd have been draimin' of ould Ireland if ye--hadn't--(snore) me
grandmother--(yawn) or the pig--"

A prolonged snore terminated this sentence, and Muggins turned into his
hammock, while Will Osten rose, with a quiet laugh, and went on deck.

One morning, some weeks after the conversation just related, our hero
was leaning over the bulwarks near the fore-chains, watching the play of
the clear waves as the ship glided quietly but swiftly through them
before a light breeze. Will was in a meditative frame of mind, and had
stood there gazing dreamily down for nearly half an hour, when his elbow
was touched by the man named Bunco, who had long before recovered from
his exposure in the canoe.

Will was a little surprised, for he had not had much intercourse with
the man, and could not comprehend the confidential and peculiar look and
tone, with which he now addressed him.

"Mister Os'en," he said, in a low voice, after a few preliminary words,
"you be tink of escape?"

Will was startled: "Why do you think so?" he asked, in some alarm.

"Ha!" said the man, with a broad grin, "me keep eyes in head--me doos--
not in pocket. Ho! ho! Yis, me see an' hear berry well Muggins go too
if hims can--and Larry O'Hale, ho yis. Now, me go too!"

"You too?"

"Yis. You save me life; me know dis here part ob the univarse,--bin
bornded an' riz here. Not far off from de land to-day. You let me go
too, an' me show you how you kin do--"

At this point Bunco was interrupted by a shout of "Land ho!" from the
look-out at the masthead.

"Where away?" cried Griffin.

"On the lee-bow, sir."

Instantly all eyes and glasses were turned in the direction indicated,
where, in a short time, a blue line, like a low cloud, was faintly seen
on the far-off horizon.

CHAPTER THREE.

DESCRIBES A TREMENDOUS BUT BLOODLESS FIGHT.

Proverbial philosophy tells us--and every one must have learned from
personal experience--that "there is many a slip 'twixt the cup and the
lip." Heroes in every rank of life are peculiarly liable to such slips,
and _our_ hero was no exception to the rule.

Finding that the vessel in which he sailed was now little, if at all,
better than a pirate, he had fondly hoped tha