ight draught of air aloft, for the vane at our main-royal-masthead
occasionally fluttered languidly out along the course we were steering,
and our royals exhibited an occasional tendency to fill, albeit they as
often collapsed again softly rustling to the masts. Moreover, the
barque still retained her steerage-way. I remarked upon this to the
mate, who had charge of the deck. He laughed.

"Ay," said he, "that is one of the _Esmeralda's_ little tricks. I've
seen her, before now, sneak up to and right through a large fleet of
ships, every one of which, excepting ourselves, was boxing the compass.
When this little barkie refuses to steer, you may take your Davy to it,
sir, that there ain't enough wind to be of any use to anybody."

It was a glorious evening. We were off Deal, slowly drifting past the
town on the ebb tide; our progress made apparent only by the quiet,
stealthy way in which the masts of the vessels lying at anchor in the
roadstead successively approached, covered, and receded from some
prominent object on shore, such as a church spire, a lofty building, a
tall chimney, and what not. The sun had sunk behind the land, leaving
behind him a clear sky of softest primrose tint, against which the
outline of the land cut sharply, the town being steeped in rich dusky
shadow, out of which the lights were beginning to twinkle here and
there. We were close enough in to catch an occasional faint, indefinite
sound from the shore, accentuated at intervals by the sharp, clear note
of a railway whistle, or the low, intermittent thunder of a moving
train; while, nearer at hand, came the occasional splash of oars in the
still water, or their thud in the rowlocks; the strains of a concertina
played on the forecastle-head of one of the craft lying at anchor; a
gruff hail; a laugh; or the hoarse rattle of chain through a hawse-pipe
as one of the drifting vessels came to an anchor. Our own lads were
very quiet, the watch below having turned in, while those on deck, with
the exception of the lookout, had arranged themselves in a group about
the windlass, and were conversing in suppressed tones well befitting the
exceeding quiet of the night. Lady Desmond, well wrapped up in a
fur-lined cloak, occupied a large wicker reclining chair placed close to
the after skylight, where it was well out of everybody's way, and was
languidly listening to the conversation which was passing between her
sister and my mother, in which she occ