fire the entire univarse; then a burst o' thunder like fifty great
guns gone off all at once in a hurry. At that identical moment,
stooard, there came up from the fore-cabin a yell that beat--well, I
can't rightly say what it beat, but it minded me o' that unfortnit pig
as got his tail jammed in the capstan off Cape Horn. The father gave a
gasp. `It's born,' says he. `More like's if it's basted,' growled Jim
Brag. `You're a unfeelin' monster, Brag,' says I; `an' though you _are_
the ship's carpenter, I _will_ say it, you 'aven't got no more sympathy
than the fluke of an anchor!' Hows'ever the poor father didn't hear the
remark, for he went down below all of a heap--head, legs, and arms--
anyhow. Then there came another yell, an' another, an' half a dozen
more, which was followed by another flash o' lightnin' an' drownded in
another roar o' thunder; but the yells from below kep' on, an' came out
strong between times, makin' no account whatever o' the whistlin' wind
an' rattlin' ropes, which they riz above--easy.--Now, stooard, do you
mean for to tell me that all that signifies nothink? Do you suppose
that that babby could go through life like an or'nary babby? No, it
couldn't--not even if it was to try--w'ich it _won't_!"

Having uttered this prophecy the cook resumed the contemplation of his
bubbling coppers.

"Well, I suppose you're right, John Johnson," said the steward.

"Yes, I'm right, Tom Thomson," returned the cook, with the nod and air
of a man who is never wrong.

And the cook _was_ right, as the reader who continues to read shall find
out in course of time.

The gale in which little Robin Wright was thus launched upon the sea of
Time blew the sails of that emigrant ship--the Seahorse--to ribbons. It
also blew the masts out of her, leaving her a helpless wreck on the
breast of the palpitating sea. Then it blew a friendly sail in sight,
by which passengers and crew were rescued and carried safe back to Old
England. There they separated--some to re-embark in other emigrant
ships; some to renew the battle of life at home--thenceforward and for
ever after to vilify the sea in all its aspects, except when viewed at a
safe distance from the solid land!

Little Robin's parents were among the latter. His father, a poor
gentleman, procured a situation as accountant in a mercantile house.
His mother busied herself--and she was a very busy little creature--with
the economics of home. She clothed Robin'