opelius's natives
discharged cargo and brought ballast. The time passed like a pleasant
dream; the adventurers sat up half the night debating and praising their
good fortune, or stayed by day in the narrow isle gaping like Cockney
tourists, and on the first of the new year the _Currency Lass_ weighed
anchor for the second time and set sail for 'Frisco, attended by the
same fine weather and good luck. She crossed the doldrums with but small
delay; on a wind and in ballast of broken coral she outdid expectations;
and, what added to the happiness of the ship's company, the small amount
of work that fell on them to do was now lessened by the presence of
another hand. This was the boatswain of the _Leslie_. He had been on bad
terms with his own captain, had already spent his wages in the saloons
of Butaritari, had wearied of the place, and while all his shipmates
coldly refused to set foot on board the _Currency Lass_, he had offered
to work his passage to the coast. He was a north of Ireland man, between
Scotch and Irish, rough, loud, humorous, and emotional, not without
sterling qualities, and an expert and careful sailor. His frame of mind
was different indeed from that of his new shipmates. Instead of making
an unexpected fortune he had lost a berth, and he was besides disgusted
with the rations, and really appalled at the condition of the schooner.
A stateroom door had stuck the first day at sea, and Mac (as they called
him) laid his strength to it and plucked it from the hinges.

"Glory!" said he, "this ship's rotten!"

"I believe you, my boy," said Captain Wicks.

The next day the sailor was observed with his nose aloft.

"Don't you get looking at these sticks," the captain said, "or you'll
have a fit and fall overboard."

Mac turned to the speaker with rather a wild eye. "Why, I see what looks
like a patch of dry rot up yonder, that I bet I could stick my fist
into," said he.

"Looks as if a fellow could stick his head into it, don't it?" returned
Wicks. "But there's no good prying into things that can't be mended."

"I think I was a Currency Ass to come on board of her!" reflected Mac.

"Well, I never said she was seaworthy," replied the captain; "I only
said she could show her blooming heels to anything afloat. And besides,
I don't know that it's dry rot; I kind of sometimes hope it
isn't.--Here; turn to and heave the log; that'll cheer you up."

"Well, there's no denying it, you're a holy captain," said M