he came up the hatchway; joining with some considerable
difficulty in the lieutenant's constitutional "quarter-deck walk." The
reverend gentleman had not got his sea legs yet, and did not find it an
easy matter to keep step, or indeed keep his footing sometimes.

This was more especially the case when the ship heeled over every now
and again before the force of the wind and then righted herself on an
even keel without warning, throwing Mr Smythe off his balance and
causing him to clutch frantically at _Joe's_ arm for support till he
recovered his lost centre of gravity.

The lieutenant's courtesy was put to a severe test in making him
preserve _his_ gravity; albeit, he had an itching inclination to burst
out into his jovial laugh at the reverend gentleman's ridiculous
contortions and praiseworthy attempts to sustain a sort of disjointed
conversation between the pauses of his grotesque sprawls and restoration
to a more dignified attitude.

As they were marching up and down the deck in this desultory way,
describing the while a series of irregular ellipses, Six Bells was
struck forwards, and the marine stationed by the taffrail at once
shouted out in a high key, "Life-buoy!"

"Dear me!" exclaimed Mr Smythe in a shrill tone of alarm, which his
squeaky voice was well calculated to express, bringing up suddenly
against one of the quarter boats which was swung inboard from the
davits; and knocking his head violently against the bottom planking,
through the ship lurching as he stopped. "What has happened--is anyone
lost overboard?"

"Oh, no," replied "Joe," laughing as usual. "It's only the jolly in
charge of the life-buoy. He has to sing out every time the bell is
struck to show that he's at his post, just as the sojers ashore on
sentry-go cry `All's well!' to tell their sergeant they're not napping,
that's all."

"Ah!" ejaculated the chaplain with a feeble smile, putting his hand to
his head as if in great pain from the blow he had received, "I see--ah,
I see."

"I hope you haven't hurt yourself," said "Joe," seeing that the other
kept his white cambric handkerchief still tightly pressed to his
forehead. "That was a rather nasty knock you got! Cut yourself, eh?"

"I--I--don't quite know, you know," answered the reverend gentleman,
removing the handkerchief after some hesitation and proceeding to
examine it carefully as if fearing the worst; but, finding now no trace
of blood on its snowy surface, he became r