had acquired a browner tint,
a more elastic step, and a stouter heart.

The Aberford prescription had done wonders for him.

He caught himself passing one whole day without thinking of Lady Barbara
Sinclair.

But even Aberford had misled him; there were no adventures to be found
in the Firth of Forth; most of the days there was no wind to speak of;
twice it blew great guns, and the men were surprised at his lordship
going out, but nobody was in any danger except himself; the fishermen
had all slipped into port before matters were serious.

He found the merchantmen that could sail creeping on with three reefs in
their mainsail; and the Dutchmen lying to and breasting it, like ducks
in a pond, and with no more chance of harm.

On one of these occasions he did observe a little steam-tug, going about
a knot an hour, and rolling like a washing-tub. He ran down to her,
and asked if he could assist her; she answered, through the medium of
a sooty animal at her helm, that she was (like our universities)
"satisfied with her own progress"; she added, being under intoxication,
"that, if any danger existed, her scheme was to drown it in the
bo-o-owl;" and two days afterward he saw her puffing and panting, and
fiercely dragging a gigantic three-decker out into deep water, like an
industrious flea pulling his phaeton.

And now it is my office to relate how Mr. Flucker Johnstone comported
himself on one occasion.

As the yacht worked alongside Granton Pier, before running out, the said
Flucker calmly and scientifically drew his lordship's attention to three
points:

The direction of the wind--the force of the wind--and his opinion, as a
person experienced in the Firth, that it was going to be worse instead
of better; in reply, he received an order to step forward to his place
in the cutter--the immediate vicinity of the jib-boom. On this, Mr.
Flucker instantly burst into tears.

His lordship, or, as Flucker called him ever since the yacht came down,
"the skipper," deeming that the higher appellation, inquired, with some
surprise, what was the matter with the boy.

One of the crew, who, by the by, squinted, suggested, "It was a slight
illustration of the passion of fear."

Flucker confirmed the theory by gulping out: "We'll never see Newhaven
again."

On this the skipper smiled, and ordered him ashore, somewhat
peremptorily.

Straightway he began to howl, and, saying, "It was better to be drowned
than be the laughing