ghed to his mate McPherson. After which piece of logic
he shut himself up in his cabin and roared comic songs all the way from
London to Gravesend. He was so exhausted by his performance that he
fell fast asleep, and snored stertorously for fifteen hours, at the end
of which time he came on deck and found that the _Black Eagle_ was lying
off Deal, and that her anchor was just being hoisted for a start up
Channel.

Captain Hamilton Miggs watched the sail-setting with his hands in his
pockets, and swore promiscuously at every one, from the mate downwards,
in a hearty comprehensive way, which showed a mind that was superior to
petty distinctions. Having run over all the oaths that he could think
of, he dived below and helped himself from the rum bottle, a process
which appeared to aid his memory or his invention, for he reappeared
upon deck and evolved a new many-jointed expletive at the man at the
wheel. He then strode in gloomy majesty up and down the quarter-deck,
casting his eyes at the sails and at the clouds in a critical way
calculated to impress the crew generally with a sense of their captain's
extraordinary sagacity.

The _Blank Eagle_ had gone about for the second time, and was just about
to free herself from the Goodwins and reach out into the Channel, when
Miggs' eye happened to fall upon the fishing boat in pursuit and the
white flutter in her bows. He examined her with his glass, steadying it
as well as he could by leaning it across the rail, as his hand was very
shaky. After a short inspection, a look of astonishment, followed by
one of resignation, stole over his features.

"I've got them again, Mac," he remarked to the mate.

"Got what, sir?"

"The diddleums, the jumps, the visions. It's the change of air as has
done it."

"You look all right," remarked the mate in a sympathetic voice.

"So I may; but I've got 'em. It's usually rats--rats, and sometimes
cockroaches; but it's worse than that this time. As I'm a livin' man, I
looked through the glass at that fishing-boat astern of us, and I saw
young Muster Ezra Girdlestone in it, and the old boss standin' up wi' a
yachtin'-cap at the side of his head and waving a towel. This is the
smartest bout that ever I have had. I'll take some of the medicine left
from my last touch and I'll turn in." He vanished down the companion,
and having taken a strong dose of bromide of potassium, tumbled into his
bunk, cursing loudly at his ill luck.

The