oby Potts and Bill Sniggs. Toby was
a sharp little chap, Bill a big, stupid fellow, the butt of the crew,
Toby made them laugh by his fun, while they laughed at Bill for his
stupid mistakes. Bill was stronger than either Toby or me, and could
thrash us both together, so that we did not often play him tricks. When
we did, the men used to stand our friends against Bill.

Sometimes all three of us used to be sent aloft to furl the royals,
which are the highest sails on the masts.

One evening there was the cry of "All hands shorten sail," which means
all the sailors are to help take in the sails. Each man has his proper
post, so that all know where to go. We three boys ran up the rigging,
up we went in the gloom of coming night, the wind whistling, the sea
roaring, the ship pitching. We had rope ladders, shrouds they are
called, to help us for most of the way. We could just make out the men
hanging on the yards below as we lay out on our yard. As Bill was a
strong chap we soon had the sail rolled up and ready to send on deck.
Toby and I had done our work, when Bill, who was clinging round the
mast, caught hold of us both.

"Now, lads, I'm going to have my revenge. You promise never to chaff me
again, or I'll let you both drop down on deck, or into the sea, may be.
In either case you'll be killed, and no one will know it."

His voice did not sound as if he was in joke.

"Which is to go first," I asked.

"You'll let us say our prayers, Bill," said Toby, who always had a word
to say.

"Will you chaff me?" cried Bill, in a fierce voice.

"Of course we will--only let us go," said Toby.

Bill thought that Toby meant that he would not chaff him, for he let us
both go, and we lost no time in slipping down the rigging.

This was the beginning of a storm, the first I had been in.

I did not think that any thing made by man's hands could have stuck
together as the big ship did, tossed and tumbled about as she was.

We told no one of what Bill had said, but we did not play him any more
tricks for some time to come.

STORY TWO, CHAPTER 2.

You all know what a storm on shore is when it seems as if the windows
must be blown in, or the roof taken off, when the walls shake, and big
trees are torn up by the roots and thrown down. At sea the wind blows
up the water into large hills with foaming tops, which seem to rise and
leap on every side, or to come rolling on towards the ship as if they
would knock her to