"Has that boy I spoke to you about come on board--Sunnyside?"

"Yes, sir; he came on board this morning. He is a sharp lad, and will make a good seaman."

Bill would have been proud, had he known that he was the subject of conversation between the captain and first lieutenant.

The next morning the _Lilly_ cast off from the buoy to which she was moored, and, making sail, ran out to Spithead, where she again anch.o.r.ed.

Bill thought he should now be fairly off to sea, but she had another week to remain there. There was the powder to take on board, and more provisions; then there were despatches from the Admiralty. At length Blue Peter was hoisted. All boats were ordered away from the ship's side. Once more sail was made, and with the wind from the north-east the _Lilly_ glided down the calm waters of the Solent.

Bill was soon perfectly at home among his new shipmates. He had never been so well fed in his life--plenty of good boiled beef and potatoes, and sweet biscuit.

"I have often wished to come to sea, and I am very glad I have come," he said, as he was seated at mess. "I did not think they fed us so well."

"Just you wait till we have been a few months in blue water, youngster,"

observed Sam Grimshaw--"old Grim," as his shipmates called him--"when we get down to the salted cow and pickled horse, and pork which is all gristle and bone. You will then sing a different tune, I have a notion."

Old Grim was noted for grumbling. He grumbled at everything; and as to pleasing him, that was out of the question.

"Well," answered Bill, "all I can say is, I am thankful for the good things now I've got them; and when the bad come, it will be time enough to cry out. I used to think, too, when once a ship got into the Channel clear away from the land, there would be nothing but tumbling and tossing about; and here we are running on as smoothly as we might up Portsmouth Harbour. Now, I am thankful for that."

"Well, so it's as well to be, my lad, for before many days are over we may be tumbling about in a heavy gale under close-reefed topsails, and then you will sing another tune to what you are doing now."

"I shall be singing that I know the bad weather won't last for ever, and that I have no doubt the sun will shine out," answered Bill.

"But maybe you will get washed overboard, or a loose block will give you a knock on the head and finish you, or some other mishap will befall you," growled out old Grim.

"As to that," answered Bill, "I am ready for the rough and smooth of life, and for the ups and downs. As I hope to have some of the ups, I must make up my mind to be content with a few of the downs."

"Well, well! There's no making you unhappy," growled out old Grim.

"Now, you don't mean to say this duff is fit food for Christians," he exclaimed, sticking his fork into a somewhat hard piece of pudding.

"It's fit for hungry boys at sea," answered Bill; "and I only wish that my brothers and sisters had as good beef and pork for dinner, not to speak of peas-pudding and duff, as we have got every day. I should like to send them some of mine, and yours too, if you do not eat it."

"Well, as we cannot live on nothing, I am obliged to eat it, good or bad," answered old Grim; "and as to giving you some of mine, why, I don't see that there's overmuch I get for myself."

"I did not ask it for myself, and I am glad to see you do not find it too bad to eat after all," said Bill, observing that old Grim cleared his plate of every particle of food it contained.

Tommy Rebow used to amuse himself by trying to tease Grimshaw, not that he would stand much from him, or from anybody else; and often Tommy had to make a quick jump of it to get out of his way. Still he would return to the charge till Grim got fearfully vexed with him. Bill himself never teased old Grim or anybody else. It was not his nature. He could laugh with them as much as they might please, but he never could laugh at them, or jeer them. Old Grim really liked Bill, though he took an odd way of showing it sometimes. Bill, indeed, soon became a favourite on board, just because he was so good-natured and happy, and was ready to oblige any one.

Captain Trevelyan did not forget his promise to Bill's mother; and though of course he did not say much to the lad, it was very evident that he had his eye on him, as he had indeed, more or less, on everybody on board. He took care that Bill should learn his duties. There were several young gentlemen on board in the midshipman's berth; and the captain had for their use a model built of the ship's masts and rigging.

He used to have them up every morning in fine weather, and make them learn all the names and uses of the ropes. Then he would make them put the ship about, or wear ship, or heave her to. Then he would have the yards braced up, then squared, then braced up on the other tack, and so forth. The ship's boys were made to stand by, to watch these proceedings, and then they were called up to go through the manoeuvres themselves, the boatswain, or one of the masters, giving them lessons.

Bill was very quick in learning, and so, before they got half way across the Atlantic, he knew how to put the ship about almost as well as any body on board. He soon, indeed, caught Tommy Rebow up, and as they were both well-grown lads, they were placed in the mizzen-top. Both of them soon learned to lay out on the yards, and to reef and furl the mizzen-topsail as well as anybody.

"Come, Bill, I told Joe Simmons I would learn you all I know myself,"

said Jack Windy, "and now you are getting seamanship, it's time you should be learning the hornpipe. You have a good ear, because you can sing well, as I have heard you; so you should learn to dance it, to astonish the natives wherever we go."

Captain Trevelyan had secured a fiddler among his ship's company--a negro of jet black hue, with a face all crumpled up in a most curious fashion, with great white rolling eyeb.a.l.l.s, and huge thick lips. He was not a beauty, and he did not think so himself; but he prided himself on playing the fiddle, and well, too, he did play it. His name was Diogenes Snow; but he was called Dio, or Di sometimes, for shortness.

With his music, and under Jack Windy's instruction, Bill soon learned to dance a hornpipe, so that few could surpa.s.s him.

"Dare, Bill; well done, Bill!" shouted Dio, as he sc.r.a.ped away with might and main. "Oh, golly! Iolly! Bill would beat Queen Charlotte, if she tried to do it, dat he would. Berry well, Bill. Keep moving, boy! Dat's it! One more turn! Hurrah! Hurrah!"

CHAPTER FOUR.

The _Lilly_ had been ordered to proceed direct to Jamaica. She was already in the lat.i.tude of the West Indies, and might expect to get into Port Royal in the course of six or eight days. Hitherto the weather had been remarkably fine, though the wind had been generally light. There was now, however, a dead calm. The dog-vanes hung up and down, the sails every now and then giving sullen flaps against the masts, while the ship rolled slowly--so slowly as scarcely to allow the movement to be perceptible--from side to side. The ocean was as smooth as the smoothest mirror, not a ripple, not the slightest cat's-paw being perceptible on it. Instead, however, of its usual green colour, it had become of a dead leaden hue, the whole arch of heaven being also spread with a dark grey canopy of a muddy tint. Yet, though the sun was not seen, the heat, as the day drew on, became intense. Dio was the only person on board who did not seem to feel it, but went about his duties as cook's mate with as much zeal and alacrity as ever, scrubbing away at pots and pans, sc.r.a.ping potatoes, and singing s.n.a.t.c.hes of odd n.i.g.g.e.r songs. His monkey Queerface, brought from his last ship, just paid off on her return from the West Indies, was skipping about the fore-rigging, now hanging by his tail swinging to and fro, now descending with the purpose of attempting to carry off one of the boy's hats, then failing, scudding hand over hand up the rigging again like lightning, chattering and spluttering as he watched the rope's end lifted threateningly towards him, or dodging the bit of biscuit or rotten potato thrown at his head. The watch on deck were hanging listlessly about, finding even their usual employment irksome. A few old hands might have been seen making a grummit or pointing a rope, while the sailmaker and his crew were at work on a suite of boat-sails; here and there also a marine might have been seen cleaning his musket, but finding the barrel rather hotter to touch than was pleasant. In truth, everywhere it was hot: below, hotter still. Though the sun was not shining, there was no shade; and discontented spirits kept moving about, in vain trying to find a cooler spot than the one they had left. Old Grim did nothing but growl.

"If it's hot out here, what will it be when we gets ash.o.r.e?" he growled out. "Why, we shall be regularly roasted or baked, and the cannibals won't have any trouble in cooking us. But to my mind (and I have always said it) a sailor is the most unfortunate chap alive, one day dried up in these burning lat.i.tudes, and then sent to cool his nose up among the icebergs. It's all very well for Dio there. It's his nature to like heat. For us poor white-skinned chaps, it's nothing but downright cruelty."

"But I suppose that it won't be always like this," said Bill. "We shall have the sun shine, and a breeze, one of these days, and go along merrily through the water. There's no place, that I ever heard tell of, where the sun does not shine, and though we don't see him, he is shining as bright as ever up above the clouds, even now. He has only got to open a way for himself through them, and we shall soon see him again."

"As to the sun shining always, you are wrong there, young chap," growled out old Grim. "Up at the North Pole there, there's a night of I don't know how many months, when you don't see him at all."

"You are wrong there, Grim," cried out Jack Windy. "I once shipped aboard a whaler, and we were shut up all the winter in the ice, and during the time we every day caught a sight of the red head of the old sun, just popping up above the horizon to the southward, and a comfort that was, I can tell you, particularly when we saw him getting higher and higher, and knew that summer was coming back again, and that we should have the ice breaking away, and get set free once more."

"Yes, yes!" exclaimed Bill, exultingly, "I am sure the sun shines everywhere, and though you might have got a long night in winter, you got a longer day in summer, I'll warrant."

"You are right there, boy," said Jack Windy. "For days together, in the north there, the sun never sets, and so, as you say, we have a very long day."

"I thought so!" exclaimed Bill, quite delighted. "Whatever else happens, G.o.d takes care to give us a right share of sunshine, and more than a right share too, if we reckon upon what we deserve."

A portion of the crew were below, but one after the other they came up, complaining that the between-decks was more like a stew-pan or hothouse than any place they had ever before been in. The officers also made their appearance on deck; but though they began to walk up and down as usual, one after the other they stopped and leant against the bulwarks or a gun-carriage, turning their faces round as if to catch a breath of air. The dog-vanes, however, hung down as listlessly as ever.

"Not an air in the heavens, sir," observed Mr Truck, the master, as Captain Trevelyan came on deck. "I cannot make anything of the weather."

"But I can," exclaimed the captain, taking a hurried glance to the westward. "What is that, do you think?"

He pointed to what seemed a long bank of driven snow rising out of the horizon. It extended nearly half-way round the horizon, every instant getting higher and higher.

"All hands shorten sail!" shouted the captain. "Up aloft, there! Lay out, haul down!"

The words produced a magical effect. In a minute, the listless crew were all activity and life. Up the rigging they swarmed like bees, some throwing themselves into the tops, others ascending the topgallant yards, and running out to either yard-arm, till every part of the ship swarmed with life, those on deck pulling and hauling with might and main, the officers a.s.sisting, every idler putting a hand to a rope. The topsails were quickly clewed up and furled, the other sails were handed, but scarcely were the men off the yards, than the high bank of foam approached the ship. There was a loud rushing, roaring noise.

"Down for your lives!" shouted the captain.

"Down for your lives, my lads," repeated the lieutenants; and though the helm was put up, and the fore-topmast staysail hoisted, the wind, striking the tall ship, drove her down before it. Over she heeled.

Down, down she went. It seemed as if she was never to rise again. The bravest held their breath. Many a cheek turned pale with fear. The captain waved his hand to the carpenter and his mates.

"Axes!" he shouted. They knew what that meant.

"I knew it would be so," growled old Grim who was standing near Bill, holding on to the weather bulwarks. "First a calm, to dry the sap out of a fellow's bones, and then a gale, to blow his teeth down his throat."

"But there may be a calm again or a fair breeze, and the sun will shine out bright and clear," answered Bill, who, however, felt more inclined to think that his last day had come, than he had ever been before. As he looked out, there was the sea, hitherto so smooth, now leaping and raging, and covered with seething foam, the spoon-drift flying in vast sheets of white, from top to top of its broken summits, while huge watery mountains seemed about to burst over the deck. Still, he knew very well that sailors had to expect rough seas as well as smooth, and that many a ship had been in a worse predicament and had escaped. As the captain cried out "axes," the carpenter and his men sprang aft, with their shining weapons in their hands. Just then the ship gave a bound, it seemed like a race-horse darting forward. Up she rose, her head springing round, and feeling the power of the helm, away she flew before the hurricane.

"Square away the fore-yards!" shouted the captain (the after-yards had already been squared). The ship's company saw that the immediate danger was pa.s.sed, and once more, fore and aft, all hands breathed freely.

"The sun will soon be shining out!" exclaimed Bill cheerily, within old Grim's hearing.

"Don't be too sure of that, boy," growled out the latter. "We shall be broaching to, maybe, before long, and be in a worse case than we were just now. I have heard of a ship doing that, running under bare poles, and getting every soul of her crew washed off her deck, except three-- the black cook, the caulker's mate, and the captain's steward--and a pretty job they had to find their way into port, seeing that neither of them knew anything of navigation, or seamanship either, for that matter; and I should like to know whose case you would be in, Sunshine Bill, if you were left with Dio and Ned Farring, aboard this craft?"