rope about her. She was the most dejected-
looking craft I ever saw, and sat so heavily on
the water, that it appeared as if nothing short
of a tornado would waken her from her stupor,
or even set her in motion at all. Although she
was already down nearly to the gunwale with
stores of a ponderous character, others were
still heaving in-board—the miserable Kertsch
receiving each new consignment with a low
hollow growl, like that of an over-loaded camel.

"Holystones—ah? Well, pitch in another
ton or two while you're at it. Pig-ballast—all
right. Stow away, my hearties! Hallo!—what
next? An iron church. Heave in—heave in!"

Finally, just as we were about to cast off, a
mighty anchor, weighing several tons, was
placed upon our tiny deck, making locomotion
all but impossible; and now the tug-boat—
rightly judging that we must either sink or sail
—came puffing down and took us in tow.

As Frank had anticipated, the excellent port-
admiral did abandon his claret, and came sweeping
out in his barge, to see his favourite depart.
The secret of his interest in her was supposed to
be a long-standing difference of opinion between
himself and the admiral of the station (who, as
I have mentioned, used the twin-vessel as his
yacht) as to the sea-going qualities of their
respective tubs.

Sir Charles greeted Frank kindly, and, having
pulled twice completely round us, as if fascinated,
bore down, and hung upon our quarter, much as
a loving parent might cling to some spoiled
darling on the point of quitting home. He
was, however, in excellent spirits, and, rubbing
his hands as he glanced round the hazy horizon
and the motionless sea, declared his opinion that
we should have a " snorer" before morning.

"If we do, Sir Charles," said Frank, laughing
as he stooped over the sunken bulwark, with
his nose nearly in the water, "you will have to
report to my lords the decease of her Majesty's
schooner Kertsch, under circumstances which
might have embarrassed a seventy-four!"

"Don't tell me, Wilcox!" exclaimed the
admiral; " a better sea-boat never swam. Now,
I just want to see what she can do, and that's
why I've popped you in her for this little
trip——"

"Thank you," said Frank, sotto voce.

"—Knowing how you boys crack on when
once you've got out of signal distance. Well,
I'll be off in a minute. Pret-ty lines indeed the
thing has! You'll return, of course, the moment
you've transhipped these matters, and bring us
word what Garibaldi's doing. Good night,
gentlemen." And the veteran's white locks
gleamed in the twilight as he waved us a
wistful adieu.

We were now about a mile and a half outside
the harbour. The tug had abandoned us to our
own devices, but there was still a dead calm, and
we swung helplessly round, heading for the port.

"Pipe away the gig," said Frank, "and get
her nose round. We may as well look the right
course."

"Very good, sir," said the quartermaster—a
grizzled old sea-dog named Jacobs—"but 'tain't
no use. She hasn't no more steerage-way than
a house. No more she won't have. I remember,
once, in the old Badg—"

"Lower the gig!" said Frank, sharply. And
the Kertsch's head was pulled round. '' I warn
you against that ancient mariner," continued
Frank. "The old croaker! He has the most
appalling catalogue of sea-horrors! Most of
them occurred while he was serving in what he
calls the 'old Badger brig.' Beware the Badger."

There was, however, something in the old
seaman's face that inclined me to cultivate his
acquaintance, and presently, as he stood patiently
by his hopeless wheel, Frank having dived below,
I laid a snare for the Badger.

"Well, Jacobs, dull work! Have you known
these calms last many hours?"

"Hours? Weeks, sir—months! I remember
—'twas in th' old Badger brig—cruising we
wos a'ter pirates in the Chainey seas, the sun
he went down streaky, as 'twas to-day. Says I
to Bill Dummage, says I, 'Bill, mark me. We're
done,' I says. 'Done!' says Bill, answering.
'Wheerby?' 'Tell ye what, now,' says I, ' I'll
swop my 'lowance o' grog 'gin yourn o' water,
day for day, for twenty-seven days, from next
Monday.' 'Done with you, mate,' were Bill's
reply...... We lays for thirty-three days on
half a pint o' water, washin' and all, till——"

"Set your gaff-topsail!" shouted Frank,
putting up his head. "Breeze coming."

The gaff-topsail opened its brown bosom, but
could not succeed in alluring the infant zephyr,
which, after indulging in a few fitful gyrations,
flickered out again altogether. The excellent
admiral would have been disgusted to find his
"snorer" fall so far short of his anticipations.
That night afforded us several hours of
undisturbed chess. The sea-air must have invigorated
my game. I found myself playing with an "élan,"
which electrified the skipper Frank.

I was on deck at daybreak. We had drifted
a little during the night, and there was even—
as Jacobs bade me remark—a little "drain" of
wind, for the harbour was seven or eight miles
distant. We were still moving, but, as some
potato-skins, flung overboard in the watches of
the night, were sailing in company, and even
occasionally forging ahead, it may be safely
inferred that the pace was not killing. After
breakfast affairs improved—light breeze on our
quarter—going about four knots for several
hours; in fact, until we sighted Cape Passaro,
the most southern point of Sicily, when again it
fell calm.

"To-morrow, sir," said old Jacobs, "you'll
have just so much wind as you can't stagger
under."

Oracles are not to be interpreted literally. I
believed in the breeze , for the staggering,
Westminster Abbey seemed as likely to become the
puppet of the winds as the impassive Kertsch.

I asked Jacobs on what he grounded his
opinion, the barometer being steady.

Mr. Jacobs suggested that the barometer
should be " blowed," adding: