habit to an
English mother; but it is a matter of supreme indifference to Sally's
mother, who sits on a gun-carriage plaiting a mat of cocoa-nut fibre,
for Sally, being naked, requires little washing. A shower of rain or a
dash of spray suffices to cleanse her when at sea. On shore she lives,
if we may say so, more in the water than on the land.

The day is fine, and the breeze so light that it scarce ruffles the face
of the great ocean, though it manages to fill the topsails of the
_Bounty_, causing her to glide quietly on. Some of the mutineers are
seated on the deck or bulwarks, patching a canvas jacket or plaiting a
grass hat. Others are smoking contemplatively. John Adams is winding
up the log-line with McCoy. Edward Young stands gazing through a
telescope at something which he fancies is visible on the horizon, and
Fletcher Christian is down in the cabin poring over Carteret's account
of his voyage in the Pacific.

There were goats on board. One of these, having become a pet with the
crew, was allowed to walk at liberty, and became a grand playmate for
Sally. Besides the goats, Christian had taken care to procure a number
of hogs and poultry from Otaheite; also a supply of young
breadfruit-trees and other vegetable products of the island, wherewith
to enrich his new home when he should find it. All the animals were
confined in cribs and pens with the exception of Sally's playmate.

"Take care!" exclaimed John Adams as he left the quarter-deck with his
hands in his pockets; "your mate'll butt you overboard, Sal, if you
don't look-out."

There was, indeed, some fear of such a catastrophe, for the precocious
infant had a tendency to scramble on any object which enabled her to
look over the low bulwarks, and the goat had a propensity to advance on
its hind legs with a playful toss of its head and take its playmate by
surprise, in truth, what between the fore-hatch, the companion-hatch,
and the low bulwarks, it may be said that Sally led a life of constant
and imminent danger. She was frequently plucked by the men out of the
very jaws of death, and seemed to enjoy the fun.

While attempting to avoid one of the goat's playful assaults, Sally
stumbled up against Matthew Quintal, deranged the work on which he was
engaged, and caused him to prick his hand with a sail-needle, at which
William McCoy, who was beside him, laughed.

"Get out o' that, you little nigger!" exclaimed Quintal, angrily, giving
the ch