ng-boat and the
fore-hatch is the galley, where the "Doctor" (as the cook is
universally called in the merchant service) is busily employed in
dishing up a steaming supper, prepared for the cabin mess; the
steward, a genteel-looking mulatto, dressed in a white apron, stands
waiting at the galley-door, ready to receive the aforementioned
supper, whensoever it may be ready, and to convey it to the cabin.

Turning aft, you perceive a young man pacing the quarter-deck, and
whistling, as he walks, a lively air from La Bayadere. He is dressed
neatly in a blue pilot-cloth pea-jacket, well-shaped trowsers,
neat-fitting boots, and a Mahon cap, with gilt buttons. This gentleman
is Mr. Langley. His father is a messenger in the Atlas Bank, of
Boston, and Mr. Langley, jr. invariably directs his communications to
his parent with the name of that corporation somewhere very legibly
inscribed on the back of the letter. He is an apprentice to the ship,
but being a smart, handy fellow, and a tolerable seaman, he was deemed
worthy of promotion, and as his owner could find no second mate's
berth vacant in any of his vessels, the Gentile has rejoiced for the
last twelve months in the possession of a third mate in the person of
Mr. Langley. He is about twenty years of age, and would be a sensible
fellow, were it not for a great taste for mischief, romance, theatres,
cheap jewelry, and tight boots. He quotes poetry on the weather
yard-arm, to the great dissatisfaction of Mr. Brewster, (to whom you
will shortly be introduced,) who often confidentially assures the
skipper that the third mate would have turned out a natural fool if
his parents had not providentially sent him to sea.

But while you have been making the acquaintance of Mr. Langley, the
steward has brought aft the dishes containing the cabin supper. A
savory smell issues from the open sky-light, through which also
ascends a ruddy gleam of light, the sound of cheerful voices, and the
clatter of dishes. After the lapse of a few minutes the turns of Mr.
Langley in pacing the deck grow shorter, and at last, ceasing to
whistle and beginning to mutter, he walks up to the sky-light and
looks down into the cabin below. Gentle reader, place yourself by his
side, and now attend as closely as the favored student did to
Asmodeus.

The fine-looking seaman reclining upon the cushioned transom, picking
his teeth while he scans the columns of a late number of the Liverpool
Mercury, is Captain S