r that he might see to fill the plates
on the other side of the tureen. He was leaning over, his centre of
gravity being considerably beyond the perpendicular, when a heavy sea
struck the vessel, and threw her nearly on her beam-ends, pitching Paul
right over the table to leeward. With the tureen, which he did not
forget to take with him, he flew into Jerry's arms, and they rolled
together on the floor. The contents of the tureen were rapidly
deposited in the open bosom of Jerry, who disengaged himself from the
embraces of his enemy as fast as he could, amidst the laughter of his
companions.

"Well, you asked for soup," observed Courtenay.

"Yes, and my friend has helped me very liberally," replied Jerry, who
was not at all out of humour, except when he was foiled with his own
weapons. In the meantime, Paul, who was a little stunned with the blow
he had received on his head, had continued on the floor rolling in the
pea-soup, and was just attempting to get on his legs.

"You've got it all to yourself there, Mr Paul. As you seem to like it,
perhaps you would prefer a spoon," said Jerry, offering him one at the
same time.

"I say, Paul, what a capital harlequin you would make," observed Peter.

Paul, who had recovered his legs, and now clung on by the table, looked
an answer horribly asquint, as if he did not admire the joke; but he
resumed his seat at the table.

The remainder of the dinner was brought down without further accident
occurring; and by the time it was over, as the bottle had to be passed
round, and everybody was obliged to drink off immediately, and put his
wine-glass inside his waistcoat to save it from perdition, they all were
very merry and happy before the repast had been concluded. "There,"
said Jerry, stroking himself down when he had finished his cheese, as if
he were a Falstaff; "a kitten might play with me now."

"More than one dare do with me," rejoined Peter, "for I'm cursedly
inclined to _shoot the cat_."

But as the second evening closed in, the sky was loaded with heavy
clouds--the scud flew wildly past them--the sea increased to mountains
high--and the gale roared through the rigging of the schooner, which was
now impelled before it under bare poles. They were really in danger.
The hatches were battened down fore and aft--the ports were knocked out
to allow the escape of the water, which poured over in such volumes as
would otherwise have swamped the vessel--and Courtenay and