Old Jock, "I know the Yankee game,
Mister--blood an' thunder an' belayin' pins an' six-ounce
knuckle-dusters! Gun play, too, an' all the rest of it. I know that
game, Mister, and it doesn't come off on my ship--no' till a' else has
been tried."

He took a turn or two up and down the poop, whistling for a breeze.
Out in the nor'-west the haze was lifting, and a faint grey line of
ruffled water showed beyond the glassy surface of our encircling calm.

"Stan' by t' check th' yards, Mister," he shouted, rubbing his
hands.... "Phe ... w! Phe ... w! Phe ... w! encouraging."

XIV

A TRICK AT THE WHEEL

"Keep 'r full an' by!"

"Full 'n by!"

Houston, relieved from the wheel, reports to the Mate and goes forward,
and I am left to stand my trick.

We are in the south-east trades; a gentle breeze, and all sail set.
Aloft, the ghostly canvas stands out against a star-studded sky, and
the masthead trucks sway in a stately circle as we heave on the light
swell. She is steering easily, asking nothing but a spoke or two when
a fluttering tremor on the weather leach of the royals shows that she
is nearing the wind. The light in the binnacle is dim and spluttering,
the glass smoke-blackened, and one can but see the points on the
compass card. South sou'-west, she heads, swinging a little west at
times, but making a good course. Eccles, who should see to the lights,
is stretched out on the wheel-box grating, resuming the thread of his
slumbers; a muttered "'ware!" will bring him to his feet when the Mate
comes round; meantime, there are stars ahead to steer by, and the
binnacle-lamp may wait.

South of the Line, at four in the morning, is a fine time to see the
stars, if one be but properly awake. Overhead, Orion has reached his
height, and is now striding towards the western horizon. The Dog-star
is high over the mizzen truck, and Canopus, clear of the weather
backstays, is a friend to a drowsy helmsman. The Southern Cross is
clearing the sea-line, and above it many-eyed Argus keeps watch over
the Pole. Old friends, all of them, companions of many a night watch
on leagues of lonely sea. A glow to the eastward marks where the dawn
will break, and the fleecy trade-clouds about the horizon are already
assuming shape and colour. There the stars are paling, but a planet,
Jupiter, perhaps, stands out in brilliance on the fast lightening sky.

Forward one bell is struck, and the look-out chants a long-drawn,
"