ry safe in his hands."

This steward, with his harsh face and stern eyes, looked a very warlike
person for so peaceful an employment.

I said nothing, however, though you may guess that I kept my eyes open.
A berth had been prepared for me next the cabin, which would have
seemed comfortable enough had it not contrasted with the extraordinary
splendour of Fourneau's quarters. He was certainly a most luxurious
person, for his room was new-fitted with velvet and silver in a way
which would have suited the yacht of a noble better than a little West
African trader.

So thought the mate, Mr. Burns, who could not hide his amusement and
contempt whenever he looked at it.

This fellow, a big, solid, red-headed Englishman, had the other berth
connected with the cabin. There was a second mate named Turner, who
lodged in the middle of the ship, and there were nine men and one boy
in the crew, three of whom, as I was informed by Mr. Burns, were Channel
Islanders like myself. This Burns, the first mate, was much interested
to know why I was coming with them.

"I come for pleasure," said I.

He stared at me.

"Ever been to the West Coast?" he asked.

I said that I had not.

"I thought not," said he. "You'll never come again for that reason,
anyhow."

Some three days after my arrival we untied the ropes by which the ship
was tethered and we set off upon our journey. I was never a good sailor,
and I may confess that we were far out of sight of any land before I was
able to venture upon deck. At last, however, upon the fifth day I drank
the soup which the good Kerouan brought me, and I was able to crawl from
my bunk and up the stair. The fresh air revived me, and from that time
onward I accommodated myself to the motion of the vessel. My beard had
begun to grow also, and I have no doubt that I should have made as fine
a sailor as I have a soldier had I chanced to be born to that branch of
the service. I learned to pull the ropes which hoisted the sails, and
also to haul round the long sticks to which they are attached. For the
most part, however, my duties were to play ecarte with Captain Fourneau,
and to act as his companion. It was not strange that he should need one,
for neither of his mates could read or write, though each of them was an
excellent seaman.

If our captain had died suddenly I cannot imagine how we should have
found our way in that waste of waters, for it was only he who had the
knowledge which enabled hi