sigh broke from some of the others, as if words
were incapable of expressing their feelings--as, indeed, they were! The
skipper was standing by the companion-hatch at the moment with a
handspike in his grasp. A deep-toned curse issued from his lips when
the fish went down, and he dashed the handspike to the deck with fearful
violence.

Once again, at this critical moment, the demon ventured to raise his
head.

"The Coper's close on the port bow!" he whispered; "go, drown it all in
grog, man, and be jolly!"

Jolly! How many men have cast away their souls, for the sake of what is
implied in that little word!

And now, alas! the gate of man's Free-will was creaking on its hinges.
No created power above or below could have moved that gate save the
power of David Bright himself.

"Shove out the boat!" shouted the miserable man, with a fierceness of
expression and tone that there was no misunderstanding. Poor Billy
understood it well enough.

"Oh! no, father! Don't do it father!" he cried in an entreating voice;
but already the little boat was dancing on the waves alongside, with
John Gunter in her.

"Jump in, Luke," said Joe Davidson, hastily, for he was anxious that at
least one trusty man should be of the party.

Luke jumped in at once, and was instantly followed by Billy. The
painter was cast off, and they pulled towards the floating grog-shop.

The tempter received them with a hearty salute.

"Cheap spirits an' cheap baccy!" said John Gunter, as he sat on the rail
of the Coper drinking the one and smoking the other, "that's what I
likes, an' plenty of both."

"That's so, John," returned David Bright, who sat beside him, and,
having already drained several bumpers of the fiery fluid, had quite got
over his troubles. "You an' I are of the same mind, John; nevertheless
you're a great sulky-faced humbug for all that!"

"What d'ee mean by that?" demanded Gunter, who was becoming rapidly
drunk and quarrelsome.

"What do I mean? why, I mean that you're the best man in the smack, out
o' sight, an' it's a rare pity that your mother hasn't got half-a-dozen
more like you. If she had I'd man the _Evening Star_ with your whole
family. Here, give us a hold o' your grapplin'-iron, old man."

He seized Gunter's fist as he spoke, and gave it a shake so hearty and
powerful, that he almost hurled that lover of cheap grog and baccy
overboard.

"Hold on, skipper!" growled the fisherman, who was for a moment
unce