good, sir," replied the lieutenant, dropping his unwonted
jocularity and relapsing into his matter-of-fact official manner. "I'd
better go on the fo'c's'le and join Mr Morgan, the mate of the watch,
who's already there."

"Thank you, Mr Bitpin," briefly said the commander by way of dismissal;
and then, bending over the poop-rail, he called out, "Bosun's mate!
Pipe all hands to shorten cable!"

"Ay, ay, sir," answered the petty officer addressed, putting his whistle
to his mouth and blowing a shrill, ear-piercing call that echoed through
the ship and was taken up by his brother mates below on the main and
lower decks, whose voices could be heard, in every key, gruffly shouting
out fore and aft, until the sound gradually died away in the distant
recesses of the hold, "All hands, shorten cable!"

Immediately, as if touched by an enchanter's wand, the quiet that had
reigned on board since the decks had been washed down disappeared, and
all was bustle and apparent confusion; although, it need hardly be said,
order was paramount everywhere.

Such, indeed, is always on board a man-of-war, where each man knows his
place and takes care to be in it as quickly as he can; especially when
"all hands" are called as in the present instance.

In this case, as now, all the crew turn out and come on deck to their
stations, whether it be their watch below or not.

Up, therefore, tumbled the men of the starboard watch, who had only been
relieved from duty an hour before, at the same time I was first roused
out by the obliging Dick Andrews.

After the men, but a little more leisurely, came the other officers not
already on deck.

Amongst these were, the Honourable Digby Lanyard, our swell first
lieutenant, eyeglass in eye as usual, and dressed as neatly as if going
to divisions, although he had only such very short notice for his
toilet; Joe Jellaby, the proper officer of my watch, whose place Mr
Bitpin had taken for the nonce, rubbing his eyes and only half awake
from his dreams of "that chawming gurl" at the admiral's ball; Charley
Gilham, our third lieutenant, a manly, blue-eyed sailor and fond of his
profession, but no bookworm and bad at head-work; Mr Cheffinch, or
"Gunnery Jack" as he was styled; the three other mates; and, all the
middies and cadets, including Larkyns.

The latter was wroth at his ante-prandial snooze being so suddenly cut
short; while Andrews, who followed in his rear, was savage at meeting
his late ant