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Caleb placed his empty pipe in one pocket, fished in another and drew out a plug of Radiant Star chewing tobacco. He took a generous bite from one corner of the plug and champed it meditatively. He sat down, looking very weary. The girl's eyes grew wider and wider with wonderment. "Isn't it strange?" she half whispered, "and beautiful?".
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"Give her a good breeze and she can find her legs, but she ain't to be compared with the Aurora." "Did you observe Mr Greyquill," continued[Pg 114] the Admiral, "on the wharf behind a little crowd of people viewing the ship under his lifted hand? He was there when you came on deck." She was a little brig, and an immense but ragged British ensign fluttered at her trysail gaff-end. She had been painted black, but the fret of an ocean long kept, the hurl and whirl of prodigious seas which were like to founder her, the blistering heat of tropic suns,[Pg 352] the viewless fangs of the wind had so worn her sides that she was mottled with patches of different colour as though she was suffering from some distemper which ravaged vessels of her sort when the voyage was of great length. She rolled wearily, as though her old bones were worn out, and every time she hove her bilge to the eye she disclosed a very landed estate of weed, long, serpentine, trailing, like the huge eel-like growths which sway from black rocks in the white wash of breakers. He squared his shoulders and held out his hand. The pointer came down with all the strength that the man dared put behind it. Johnston peered closely into the boy's face. It was white and quivering but it still wore a smile..
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