natural to Dennis as the flow of his fun, made him particularly
acceptable to Alfonso.

And for the rest, we came to feel that if we could keep the _Water-Lily_
afloat to the end of her voyage, most other considerations were minor
ones.

CHAPTER X.

"May it please GOD not to make our friends so happy as to forget
us!"--_Old Proverb_.

The _Water-Lily_ was re-christened by Dennis, with many flourishes of
speech and a deck tub of salt water long before we reached our journey's
end. The _Slut_, as we now privately called her, defied all our efforts
to make her look creditable for New York harbour, but we were glad
enough to get her there at all.

We made the lights of Barnegat at about six o'clock one fine morning,
took a pilot on board at Sandy Hook, and the _Slut_ being by this time
as ship-shape as we could get her, we cleaned ourselves to somewhat
better purpose, put on our shore-togs, and were at leisure to enjoy one
of the most charming sensations in the world, that of making one's way
into a beautiful harbour on a beautiful morning. The fresh breeze that
favoured us, the sunshine that--helped by the enchantment of
distance--made warehouses look like public buildings, and stone houses
like marble palaces, a softening hue of morning mist still clinging about
the heights of Brooklyn and over the distant stretch of the Hudson
river islands, the sparkling waves and dancing craft in the bay, and all
the dear familiar maze of spars and rigging in the docks; it is
wonderful how such sights, and the knowledge that you are close to the
haven where you would be, charm away the sore memories of the voyage
past, and incline you to feel that it hasn't been such a bad cruise
after all.

"Poor ole _Water-Lily_!" sighed Alfonso, under the influence of this
feeling, "you and me's called her a heap o' bad names, Dennis; I 'spects
we has to have our grumbles, Dennis. Dat's 'bout whar 'tis."

"She's weathered the storm and got into port, anyhow," said Dennis, "and
I suppose you think the best can do no more. Eh?"

"Jes' so, Dennis."

Alfonso was not far wrong on the subject of grumbling. It is one of a
sailor's few luxuries and privileges, and acts as safety-valve for heats
of just and unjust indignation, which might otherwise come to dangerous
explosion. We three had really learned no mean amount of rough-and-ready
seamanship by this time, and we had certainly practised the art of
grumbling as well. That