dock, and
while engaged in this operation, the Mate appeared on deck, went
forward, and attended to his duties as usual! A scene occurred which
is beyond description: every feature of it is as vivid in my
recollection as though it occurred but yesterday, and will be to my
latest breath. The warp dropped from the paralysed hands of the
horror-stricken sailors, and had it not been taken up by some boatmen
on board, I should have been compelled to anchor again and procure
assistance from the shore. Not a word was uttered; but the two guilty
wretches staggered to the mainmast, where they remained petrified with
horror, until the officer, who had been sent for, approached to take
them into custody. They then seemed in a measure to be recalled to a
sense of their appalling predicament, and uttered the most piercing
expressions of lamentation and despair.

They were soon tried, and upon the testimony of the mate capitally
convicted and executed.

TOM CRINGLE'S LOG.

We had refitted, and been four days at sea, on our voyage to Jamaica,
when the gun-room officers gave our mess a blow out.

The increased motion and rushing of the vessel through the water, the
groaning of the masts, the howling of the gale, and the frequent
trampling of the watch on deck, were prophetic of wet jackets to some
of us; still, midshipman-like, we were as happy as a good dinner and
some wine could make us, until the old gunner shoved his weather
beaten phiz and bald pate in at the door. "Beg pardon Mr. Splinter,
but if you will spare Mr. Cringle on the forecastle an hour, until the
moon rises."--("Spare," quotha, "is his majesty's officer a joint
stool?")--"Why, Mr. Kennedy, why? here, man, take a glass of grog." "I
thank you sir." "It is coming on a roughish night, sir; the running
ships should be crossing us hereabouts; indeed, more than once I
thought there was a strange sail close aboard of us, the scud is
flying so low, and in such white flakes; and none of us have an eye
like Mr. Cringle, unless it be John Crow, and he is all but frozen."
"Well, Tom, I suppose you will go."--Anglice, from a first lieutenant
to a mid--

"Brush instanter."

Having changed my uniform for shag trowsers, pea-jacket and a
south-west cap, I went forward and took my station, in no pleasant
humor, on the stowed jib, with my arm around the stay. I had been half
an hour there, the weather was getting worse, the rain was beating in
my face, and the spray fr