g. There is a cast upon his
countenance that strikes the questioner, somewhat puzzling him. But
there is no time either for further inquiry or reflection. The cutter
has been lowered, and rests upon the water. Her crew is crowding into
her; and she will soon be moving off from the ship.

"You can go, lad," assents the captain. "Report yourself to the third
lieutenant, and tell him I have given you leave. You're young, and,
like all youngsters, ambitious of gaining glory. Well; in this affair
you won't have much chance. I take it. It's simply boarding a ship in
distress, where you're more likely to be a spectator to scenes of
suffering. However, that will be a lesson for you; therefore you can
go."

Thus authorised, the mid hurries away from the quarterdeck, drops down
into the boat, and takes seat alongside the lieutenant, already there.

"Shove off!" commands the latter; and with a push of boat-hook, and
plashing of oars, the cutter parts from the ship's side, cleaving the
water like a knife.

The two vessels still lie becalmed, in the same relative position to one
another, having changed from it scarce a cable's length. And stem to
stern, just as the last breath of the breeze, blowing gently against
their sails, forsook them.

On both, the canvas is still spread, though not bellied. It hangs limp
and loose, giving an occasional flap, so feeble as to show that this
proceeds not from any stir in the air, but the mere balancing motion of
the vessels. For there is now not enough breeze blowing to flout the
long feathers in the tail of the Tropic bird, seen soaring aloft.

Both are motionless; their forms reflected in the water, as if each had
its counterpart underneath, keel to keel.

Between them, the sea is smooth as a mirror--that tranquil calm which
has given to the Pacific its distinctive appellation. It is now only
disturbed, where furrowed by the keel of the cutter, with her stroke of
ten oars, five on each side. Parting from the frigate's beam, she is
steering straight for the becalmed barque.

On board the man-of-war all stand watching her--their eyes at intervals
directed towards the strange vessel. From the frigate's forward-deck,
the men have an unobstructed view, especially those clustering around
the head. Still there is nearly a league between, and with the naked
eye this hinders minute observation. They can but see the white-spread
sails, and the black hull underneath them. With