or swim, the inexorable
demand of Billingsgate for fish must be met! Accordingly, next day
about noon, a fresh breeze having sprung up, and a carrier-steamer being
there ready for her load, the same lively scene which we have described
in a previous chapter was re-enacted, and after the smacks were
discharged they all went off as formerly in the same direction, like a
shoal of herrings, to new fishing-grounds.

When they had got well away to the eastward and were beating up against
a stiff northerly breeze, David Bright who stood near the helm of the
_Evening Star_, said to his son in a peculiarly low voice--

"Now, Billy, you go below an' fetch me a glass of grog."

Billy went below as desired, but very unwillingly, for he well knew his
father's varying moods, and recognised in the peculiar tone in which the
order was given, a species of despondency--almost amounting to despair--
which not unfrequently ushered in some of his worst fits of
intemperance.

"Your fadder's in de blues to-day," said Zulu, as he toiled over his
cooking apparatus in the little cabin; "when he spok like dat, he goes
in for heavy drink."

"I know that well enough," returned Billy, almost angrily.

"Why you no try him wid a 'speriment?" asked the cook, wrinkling up his
nose and displaying his tremendous gums.

"For any sake don't open your mouth like that, Zulu, but tell me what
you mean by a 'speriment," said the boy.

"How kin I tell what's a 'speriment if I'm not to open my mout'?"

"Shut up, you nigger! an' talk sense."

"Der you go agin, Billy. How kin I talk sense if I'm to shut up? Don't
you know what a 'speriment is? Why it's--it's--just a 'speriment you
know--a dodge."

"If you mean a dodge, why don't you say a dodge?" retorted Billy; "well,
what is your dodge? look alive, for daddy'll be shoutin' for his grog in
a minute."

"You jus' listen," said the cook, in a hoarse whisper, as he opened his
enormous eyes to their widest, "you jus' take a wine-glass--de big 'un
as your fadder be fond of--an' put in 'im two teaspoonfuls o' vinegar,
one tablespoonful o' parafine hoil, one leetle pinch o' pepper, an' one
big pinch ob salt with a leetle mustard, an' give 'im dat. Your fadder
never take time to smell him's grog--always toss 'im off quick."

"Yes, an' then he'd toss the wine-glass into my face an' kick me round
the deck afterwards, if not overboard," said Billy, with a look of
contempt. "No, Zulu, I don't like your '