ly, "Ah! ahoy, my
hearties: this is the good brig _Clear the Track_; come aboard." He
cast over the side a rope-ladder, such as is in common use on board
ships, and we climbed to the quarterdeck, over the stern-board of which,
and covering the companion-hatch, there had been built a roof, or open
cabin, making that part of the brig answer the same purposes as the
porch of a house. There were benches along the sides, a spyglass
hanging overhead in beckets, and a binnacle close by where the wheel had
once stood.

The Captain, as we will henceforth call him, however, just then fixed
our attention more than the strangely fitted--up wreck. He was short,
only about five feet four in height, with very heavy, broad, straight
shoulders, immense chest, long arms, very narrow, compact hips, and
short, sturdy legs, much bowed. His features were large, straight, and
determined, and with something of the bulldog in them, yet stamped with
kindness, intelligence, and humour--a face that might be a terror to an
enemy, as it was a surety to a friend. It was well bronzed by many a
storm and tropical sun, and a dark beard grew on it, as the wild moss on
the sea-rocks, in a luxuriant, disorderly manner. His hair was very
thick, black, and glossy, only here and there flecked with the grey of
age, and hung in curls that almost made his rough and powerful head even
handsome. Walter said that night that he was sure Samson and Neptune
were relatives, for without doubt the Captain was descended from both of
them. With the jawbone of an ass he might put to flight a thousand
Philistines, and with a trident drive a four-in-hand of porpoises.

We told that to the Captain afterwards, when we got to know him well,
and it tickled him greatly. He declared it was the finest compliment he
had ever received, and took Walter high in his favour from that moment.

Our new friend never wore either collar or vest. When not "on duty," as
he expressed it, he went about in his shirt-sleeves. His breeches were
of the ample sailor-cut, and hung from suspenders as intricate as a
ship's rigging. His shirts were spotlessly white, and of very fine
linen. A short black pipe was always in his mouth, or sticking its clay
stem from a waist-band pocket.

Such, my dear boys, was Captain Mugford, whom we fellows dubbed "our
salt tute," in contradistinction to Mr Clare, who was afterwards known
as "our fresh tutor."

As Mr Clare came over the brig's side, he sa