sun is shining, and the arch above reflects itself in its
bosom. The gulls floated half asleep on the water, with one eye open
and the other closed; and the pale-grey kittiwakes seemed to glide about
on the wing, to dip down here and there and cleverly snatch a tiny fish
from the surface of the softly heaving sea.

On the deck of the little cutter all was in that well-known apple-pie
order customary on board a man-of-war, for so Lieutenant Lipscombe in
command always took care to call it, and in this he was diligently
echoed by the young gentleman who acted as his first officer, and, truth
to say, second and third officer as well, for he was the only one--to
wit, Hilary Leigh, midshipman, lately drafted to this duty, to his great
disgust, from on board the dashing frigate _Golden Fleece_.

"Man-o'-war!" he had said in disgust; "a contemptible little cock-boat.
They ought to have called her a boy-o'-war--a little boy-o'-war. I
shall walk overboard the first time I try to stretch my legs."

But somehow he had soon settled down on board the swift little craft
with its very modest crew, and felt no small pride in the importance of
his position, feeling quite a first lieutenant in his way, and for the
greater part of the time almost entirely commanding the vessel.

She was just about the cut of a goodsized modern yacht, and though not
so swift, a splendid sailer, carrying immense spars for her tonnage, and
spreading canvas enough to have swamped a less deeply built craft.

The decks were as white as holystone could make them, the sails and the
bell shone in the morning sun like gold, and there was not a speck to be
seen on the cabin skylight any more than upon either of the three brass
guns, a long and two shorts, as Billy Waters, who was gunner and
gunner's mate all in one, used to call them.

Upon this bright summer morning Hilary Leigh was sitting, with his legs
dangling over the side and his back against a stay, holding a fishing
line, which, with a tiny silvery slip off the tail-end of a mackerel,
was trailing behind the cutter, fathoms away, waving and playing about
in the vessel's wake, to tempt some ripple-sided mackerel to dart at it,
do a little bit of cannibalism, and die in the act.

Two had already been hauled on board, and lay in a wooden bucket,
looking as if they had been carved out of pieces of solid sea at
sunrise, so brilliant were the ripple marks and tints of pink and purple
and grey and orange