lynn
Proctor stood by the wheel. The post of the latter, however, was a
sinecure, as the wind had again fallen. When the sun rose it revealed
the three vessels lying becalmed within a short distance of each other
and several miles off shore.

"So, so," exclaimed the captain, taking the glass and examining the
other vessels. "I see it's all up with the slaver. Serves him right;
don't it, Glynn?"

"It does," replied Glynn emphatically. "I hope they will all be hanged.
Isn't that the usual way of serving these fellows out?"

"Well, not exactly, lad. They don't go quite that length--more's the
pity; if they did, there would be less slave-trading; but the rascals
will lose both ship and cargo."

"I wonder," said Glynn, "how they can afford to carry on the trade when
they lose so many ships as I am told they do every year."

"You wouldn't wonder, boy, if you knew the enormous prices got for
slaves. Why, the profits on one cargo, safely delivered, will more than
cover the loss of several vessels and cargoes. You may depend on't they
would not carry it on if it did not pay."

"Humph!" ejaculated Glynn, giving the wheel a savage turn, as if to
express his thorough disapprobation of the slave-trade, and his extreme
disgust at not being able, by the strength of his own right arm, at once
to repress it. "And who's to pay for our foretopsail-yard?" he
inquired, abruptly, as if desirous of changing the subject.

"Ourselves, I fear," replied the captain. "We must take it
philosophically, and comfort ourselves with the fact that it _is_ the
foretopsail-yard, and not the bowsprit or the mainmast, that was carried
away. It's not likely the captain of the cruiser will pay for it, at
any rate."

Captain Dunning was wrong. That same morning he received a polite note
from the commander of the said cruiser, requesting the pleasure of his
company to dinner, in the event of the calm continuing, and assuring him
that the carpenter and the sail-maker of the man-of-war should be sent
on board his ship after breakfast to repair damages. Captain Dunning,
therefore, like an honest, straightforward man as he was, admitted that
he had been hasty in his judgment, and stated to Glynn Proctor,
emphatically, that the commander of the _Firebrand_ was "a trump."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

NEW SCENES--A FIGHT PREVENTED BY A WHALE--A STORM--BLOWN OFF THE
YARDARM--WRECK OF THE "RED ERIC".

Five weeks passed away, and really, when one come