n to Deal I again embarked with Bramble and three
others, to follow up our vocation. The second day we were abreast of
the Ram Head, when the men in another pilot boat, which had come out of
Plymouth and was close to us, waved their hats and kept away to speak to
us. We hove-to for them.

"Have you heard the news?" cried one of the men.

"No."

"Lord Nelson has beat the French and Spanish fleet."

"Glad to hear it--huzza!"

"Lord Nelson's killed."

"Lord Nelson's killed!!" The intelligence was repeated from mouth to
mouth, and then every voice was hushed; the other boat hauled her wind
without further communication, nor did we at the time think of asking
for any more. The shock which was given to the whole country was
equally felt by those who were seeking their bread in a small boat, and
for some little while we steered our course in silence.

"What d'ye say, my lads," said Bramble, who first broke silence; "shall
we haul up for Cawsand, and get a paper? I shan't be content till I
know the whole history."

This was consented to unanimously; no one thought of piloting vessels
for the moment, and earning food for their families. When the country
awarded a public funeral to our naval hero, it did not pay him a more
sincere tribute than was done in this instance by five pilots in a
galley. At Cawsand we obtained the newspaper, and after a few pots of
beer, we again made sail for the mouth of the Channel. It hardly need
be observed, that the account of this winding-up, as it proved, of our
naval triumphs, with the death of Nelson, was the subject of
conversation for more than one day. On the third, we were all
separated, having fallen in with many wind-bound vessels who required
our services. The one I took charge of was a West Indiaman, deeply
laden with rum and sugar, one of a convoy which were beating about in
the Chops of the Channel. As we were standing out from the English
coast, the captain and one of the passengers were at the taffrail close
to me.

"What do you think of the weather, pilot?" said the captain.

"I think we shall have a change of wind, and dirty weather before twelve
hours are over our heads," replied I.

"Well," said he, "that's my opinion; there is a cloud rising in the
south-west; and, look, there are some Mother Carey's chickens dipping in
the water astern."

"Where?" said the passenger, a curly-headed Creole, about twenty years
old.

"Those small birds," replied the c