"Ay, sir, she be a bit tossy like," said Bob; "but this here's nothing
to what it is on a rocky coast. Ah, that's bad if you like."

"But we've had an awful night, Bob."

"Tidy, sir, tidy. Not so bad as it might ha' been."

"Oh, it couldn't have been worse!" I cried.

"What? Not been worse, sir? Why, where's your mainmas' gone by the
board, and your fore-mast cut off at the top-mast-head, and your mizzen
splintered into matchwood? Why, my lad, this arn't been nothing. And
look yonder, there's the sun a-coming out, leastwise it's making the
clouds look red-like. We're coming out of it well. Why, you ought to
be proud, Mr Dale, o' belonging to such a ship as the Burgh Castle.
She's a clipper, if ever there was one built."

"I am proud of her, Bob," I said, "but I'm not proud of her crew."

"Well, no, sir," said Bob, rubbing his red nose, which looked wet and
shiny now; "they arn't turned out a werry good lot, but then arter all
they might ha' been worse. You see it's just like having so much soup
as the cook's made for you, and all as good as can be, till the cook's
mate tilts the lamp aside by a-hitting it with his head, and a drop o'
hyle goes into the soup. That one drop o' train-hyle spyles all the
pot. See what I mean?"

"That Jarette is the drop of oil?"

"That's it, sir, and a werry, werry rancid drop he be."

Mr Denning laughed, and I saw him turn his back to the direction in
which Mr Frewen had gone.

"_Tlat_!" went Bob Hampton's lips in a loud smack. "Glad when they
gents come back, for I want some o' your young lady's hot coffee, bless
her! to take the taste o' the hyle out o' my mouth."

"You shall have it soon, Hampton, my good brave fellow," cried Mr
Denning, and I saw the weak tears in his eyes, "and you tell my sister
that she is to find my little silver flask, and give you some brandy in
your coffee."

"Thankye, sir, thankye, that's very good of you. Why, Mr Dale, sir,
you talk of our having a bad night. Tchah!--nothing, lad, nothing. How
could it be a werry bad 'un when you have the luck to be shipped aboard
a craft with a angel aboard? A angel, that's what I says, and Neb
Dumlow and Barney says the same. We all said it arter the mutiny had
begun, and that if we didn't get the best of old Frenchy somehow we'd
eat our heads.--Lie down, will yer?" he roared, as he gave the side of
the hatch so fierce a kick that I thought his heavy boot would have gone
through.

There was