Page:Cerise, a tale of the last century (IA cerisetaleoflast00whytrich).pdf/241

 enough for one ship. I'll have no lawyer sail with me, and no opinions 'whether or no' before the mast. If you think of disobeying orders, just remember it's a short walk from from my berth to the powder-room, and the clink of a flint will square all accounts between captain and crew. If I'm not to be skipper, nobody else shall, and what I say I mean. Lastly, no man is to get drunk except in port. And now, my lads, here's a fair wind, and a following tide! Before we get the fiddle up for a 'Stamp and go, cheerily ho!' we'll give three cheers for 'The Bashful Maid,' and then shake out every rag of canvas and make a good run while the breeze holds!"

The men cheered with a will. The Captain's notions of sea-oratory were founded on a knowledge of his audience, and answered his purpose better than the most finished style of rhetoric. As the shouting died out, a strong voice was heard, demanding "one cheer more for the skipper." It was given enthusiastically—Slap-Jack, who had sneaked on deck with his head bandaged, having taken this sailor-like method of showing he bore no malice for a ducking, and was indeed only desirous that his late prank should be overlooked. Nevertheless, in the hurry and confusion of getting the anchor up, he contrived to place himself at Beaudésir's side and to grasp him cordially by the hand.

"You be a good chap," said this honest seaman, with a touch of feeling that he hid under an affectation of exceeding roughness; "as good a chap as ever broke a biscuit! Look ye, mate; my name's Slap-Jack; so long as I can show my number, when anything's up, you sings out 'Slap-Jack!' and if I don't answer 'Slap-Jack it is!' why"

The imprecation with which this peculiar acknowledgment concluded did not render it one whit more intelligible to Beaudésir, who gathered enough, however, from the speaker's vehemence to feel that he had made at least one stanch friend among the crew. By the time he had realised this consoling fact, the brigantine's head, released from the restraint of her cable, swung round to leeward, her strong new sails filled steadily with the breeze, and while the ripple gurgled louder and louder round her bows, already tossing and plunging through the increasing swell, the quay, the lighthouse, the long low spit of land, the town, the