in Portsmouth harbour. It is a dark, murky, blowing day, with
gusts of rain, and thick fog. Mr Vanslyperken is more than usually
displeased, for, as he had to wait for the new boat which he had
demanded, he thought this a good opportunity of enlivening the bends of
the Yungfrau with a little black paint--not before it was required, most
certainly, for she was as rusty in appearance as if she had been built
of old iron. But paint fetched money; and as Mr Vanslyperken always
sold his, it was like parting with so much of his own property, when he
ordered up the paint-pots and brushes. Now the operation of beautifying
the Yungfrau had been commenced the day before, and the unexpected
change in the weather during the night had washed off the greater
portion of the paint, and there was not only all the trouble, but all
the expense, to be incurred again. No wonder that Mr Vanslyperken was
in a bad humour--not only in a bad humour, but in the very worst of
humours. He had made up his mind to go on shore to see his mother, and
was pacing the quarter-deck in his great coat, with his umbrella under
his arm, all ready to be unfurled as soon as he was on shore. He was
just about to order his boat to be manned: Mr Vanslyperken looked up at
the weather--the fog was still thick, and the rain fell. You could not
even make out the houses on the Point. The wind had gone down
considerably. Mr Vanslyperken looked over the gunwale--the damage was
even greater than he thought. He looked over the stern, there was the
stage still hanging where the painters had been standing or sitting,
and, what was too bad, there was a pot of paint, with the brush in it,
half full of rain-water, which some negligent person had left there.
Mr Vanslyperken turned forward to call somebody to take the paint
below, but the decks were empty, and it was growing dark. A sudden
thought, instigated no doubt by the devil, filled the brain of Mr
Vanslyperken. It was a glorious, golden opportunity, not to be lost.
He walked forward, and went down into his cabin again, where he found
Smallbones helping himself to biscuit, for the lad was hungry, as well
he might be; but on this occasion Mr Vanslyperken took no notice.

"Smallbones," said he, "one of the men has left his paint-pot on the
stage, under the stern: go and bring it in immediately."

"Yes, sir," replied Smallbones, surprised at the unusually quiet style
of his master's address to him.

Smallbones ra