a man thirsty, but work like that I
have just been doing is ten times as bad. Hah! It's horrid!--horrid!
I believed I knew that channel pretty well, but for the last hour, and
every minute of it, I have been waiting to hear the little schooner go
scrunch on to some hidden rock; and now I feel quite done."

"It must have been horrible," said the middy, looking his sympathy. "Of
course we all knew it was dangerous, but none of us could have felt like
that."

"No, my lad," said the mate, holding out his rough hand. "I don't
believe anybody felt like that," and he gripped the boy's hand firmly.
"But I say, between ourselves, I didn't mean to speak. It's made me
feel a little soft like, and I shouldn't like anybody to know what I
said."

"You may trust me, Mr Burgess," said the lad warmly.

"I do, my lad; I do, for I know what a gentleman you are. But to
nobody, please, not even to young Poole."

The rough mate nodded his satisfaction as he met the middy's eyes, and
somehow from that minute it seemed to Fitz that they had become great
friends.

"Now, that's what I call the prettiest view we've seen of that gunboat
yet, Mr Burnett, sir," said the carpenter a short time later, as the
lad strolled up to where he was leaning over the bulwarks shading his
eyes from the sun. "I don't profess to be a artist, sir; nighest I ever
come to making a picter was putting a frame round it and a bit of glass
in front, as I kep' in tight with brads. But I've seen a deal of natur'
in my time, hot and cold, and I say that's the prettiest bit of a
sea-view I ever set eyes on. She's a fine-built boat--nice shape.
Looks like about half-way between a flat-iron and one of them as the
laundresses use with a red-hot thing in their insides. But it ain't
only her shape as takes my fancy. It's her position, and that's one
that everybody on board must admire, as she lies there nice and distant
with the coast behind, sea in front, and a lovely bit of foam and
breakers both sides. Ah! she makes a lovely pictur'. She don't want no
frame, and the beauty of her is that she's one of them what they used to
call dissolving views. You see, we shan't see her no more, and don't
want to, and that's the beauty of it."

"Yes, you're right, Chips," said Poole, laughing. "We've seen rather
too much of her as it is. But you are a bit wrong. I dare say we shall
see her again. Don Ramon will be for trying to get her off the rocks
when he hears how