near.
Cilley looked scandalized at Chris's impertinence in finding them in
any way droll.

"Them? Why, bless me cap and buttons! That-there's the captain of the
_Mirabelle_ no less, and his first mate. Captain Ezekial Blizzard, he
is, and Mr. Elisha Finney," Ned Cilley told them, watching the earnest
conversation of the pair with evident affection.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

"Blizzard and Finney, that's them," he said. "And a better captain and
first mate is not come by in the whole land, I shall warrant you. He
may look too plump for his own good," Master Cilley went on, lowering
his voice and bending down to be on a level with Chris and Amos, "but
believe me, there's no sounder captain afloat. They all know it
hereabouts, for Ezekial Blizzard knows the Chiny Seas better than the
sight of his own feet, make no mistake about it. As to Elisha Finney,
he's glum, I don't deny, but faithful! That's true of the two of
them--whatever they can do for Mr. Wicker is law for Ezekial Blizzard
and Elisha Finney. They swear by Mr. Wicker, so they do," Ned said,
wagging his head with the certainty of it. "Mr. Finney's kind, too,"
Ned went on, "though he don't look it, bless me cap and boots! He's
tenderhearted as a bird, under that gloom, is Finney."

"Could we go on board the ship?" Chris asked, when the Captain and Mr.
Finney had moved off to the far end of the wharf.

"No, me lad," Cilley answered gravely. "'Tis better not. Wait till the
master do present you proper to the Captain, for the _Mirabelle_ is
Captain Blizzard's castle, like. I would sooner ye were asked aboard
by him."

Then, seeing Chris's crestfallen face, Cilley clapped him so heartily
on the back that the boy staggered forward a pace or two.

"Come now! Cheer up!" Ned cried. "Come meet some of the crew!" he
invited, and taking Chris and Amos's arms, drew them towards a group
of seamen.

Chris looked quickly around at the faces of the men, for these, he
secretly knew, were to be his companions on a long sea journey soon to
start. With a deep sense of relief he found that he liked them all.
All, perhaps, but one. Then he gave his attention to Ned Cilley, who
with a flourish was making the introductions.

"Me lads!" he cried, "Here are two likely young 'uns, living at the
house of Mr. Wicker. Ye've heard me speak of them. Amos, here, on me
right, and Chris, that's on me other side." He beamed at both and on
the men confronting him. "Now boys," he