he'd make his fortin' if he was to play that
thing about the streets o' Lun'on. Listen."

Jim Frost deserved all the praise that the enthusiastic boy bestowed on
him, for, besides possessing a fine ear and taste for music, and having
taught himself to play well, he had a magnificent tenor voice, and took
great delight in singing the beautiful hymns which at that time had been
introduced to the fleet. On this particular day he was joined by his
crew, whose voices--more or less tuneful--came rolling over the water in
a great volume of melody.

"He's got Singin' Peter a-visitin' him," said Billy. "Don't you hear
him?"

"Ay, I hear him, boy. There's no mistakin' Singin' Peter's voice. I'd
know it among a thousand."

"If it's hell here," remarked Billy, with a great sigh of satisfaction,
after the hymn was done, "it do seem like heaven over there. I only
wish we had Jim Frost on board of us instead of that brute Gunter."

"Don't be hard on Gunter, Billy," said Ned. "We don't know what he's
got to bear. Some men are born, you see, wi' narves that are for ever
screwin' at 'em, an' ticklin' of 'em up; an' other men have narves that
always keep smoothin' of 'em down. The last are the pleasantest to have
to do with, no doubt, but the others ain't quite so bad as they look
sometimes. Their bark is worse than their bite."

"Hush!" exclaimed the boy, holding up a finger at the moment, for Jim
Frost's accordion again sent forth its rich tones in the prelude to a
hymn. A few moments later and the tuneful voices came rolling towards
them in that beautiful hymn, the chorus of which ends:--

"We shall know each other better when the mists are rolled away."

When the last verse was sung little Billy found a tear struggling to get
out of each eye, and a lump sticking in his throat, so he turned his
head away to conceal them.

"Ain't it beautiful?" he said, when the lump had disappeared.

"And ain't it curious," answered Ned, "that it should touch on what we
was talkin' about afore they began? P'r'aps we shall know John Gunter
better `when the mists are rolled away.'"

Billy shook his head dubiously. "I'm not so sure o' that," he said.
"Anyhow, there's a deal o' mist to be rolled away before we can know
_him_ better."

"There's a breeze comin' up from the south'ard," remarked Ned, who, to
say truth, did not seem to care very much about getting to know his
surly shipmate better; "we'll have to get your father ab