ow that I am a bastard?"

"Do you hear the impudent scoundrel? Pray, sir, who is your father?"

"Oh! that I knew," said I, bursting into tears. "I bless God that it is
not you."

"To the mast-head! to the mast-head! Where's the boatswain? start him
up! start him up!"

The boatswain could not make his way aft till I was some rattlings up
the main rigging, and thus, his intentional and kind dilatoriness saved
me from the indignity of a blow. Twice I gazed upon the clear blue and
transparent water, and temptation was strong upon me, for it seemed to
woo me to rest; but when I looked inboard, and contemplated the
diminutive, shrivelled, jaundiced figure beneath me, I said to myself,
"Not for such a thing as that."

Before I had got to the main-top, I thought, "This morning he loved
me!--poor human nature!"--and when I got to the topmast cross-trees, I
had actually forgiven him. It has been my failing through life, as
Shakespeare expresses it, "to have always lacked gall." God knows how
much I have forgiven, merely because I have found it impossible to hate.

But it was to be tried still more. I had settled myself comfortably on
the cross-trees, making excuses for the captain, and condemning my own
want of caution, and anticipating a reconciliatory breakfast with my
persecutor, when his shrill voice came discordantly upon my ears.

"Mast-head, there!"

"Sir."

"Up higher, sir--up higher."

I hesitated--the order was repeated with horrid threats and
imprecations. There were no rattlings to the topgallant rigging. It
had been tremendously hot all day, and the tar had sweated from the
shrouds; and I was very loath to spoil my beautiful white jean trousers
by swarming up them. However, as I perceived that he had worked himself
into a perfect fury, up I went, and to the topgallant-mast-head,
embracing the royal pole with one arm, and standing on the bights of the
rigging. My nether apparel, in performing this feat, appeared as if it
had been employed in wiping up a bucket of spilled tar.

But I was not long to remain unmolested in my stand on the high and
giddy mast. My astonishment and dismay were unbounded at hearing
Captain Reud still vociferate, "Up higher, sir."

The royal pole stood naked, with nothing attached to it but the royal
and the signal-halyards, the latter running through the truck. My lady
readers must understand that the truck is that round thing at the top of
all the masts that looks