that of Oliver to Paul--if words are a test of feelings--for Ruth's
beautiful language could not compare with the forcible expressions with
which Oliver assured his friend that he would stick to him, neck or
nothing, through thick and thin, to the latest hour of life!

As for the rest of the crew--Big Swinton, Little Stubbs, George Blazer,
Squill, and the like--it was well, as we have said, that they could not
see into the future.

There were forty of them, all told, including the cook and the
cabin-boy. We do not include Paul Burns or Oliver Trench, because the
former was naturalist to the expedition--a sort of semi-scientific
freelance; and the latter, besides being the master's, or skipper's,
son, was a free-and-easy lance, so to speak, whose duties were too
numerous to mention, and too indefinite to understand. Most of the men
were what is expressed by the phrase "no better than they should be."
Some of them, indeed, were even worse than that. The wars of the period
had rendered it difficult to obtain good seamen at that particular time,
so that merchant skippers had to content themselves with whatever they
could get. The crew of the _Water Wagtail_ was unusually bad,
including, as it did, several burglars and a few pickpockets, besides
loafers and idlers; so that, before leaving Bristol, a friend of the
skipper, whose imagination was lively, styled it a crew of forty
thieves.

The coast of Norway was the destination of the _Water Wagtail_. She
never reached the coast of--but we must not anticipate. What her object
was in reference to Norway we cannot tell. Ancient records are silent
on the point.

The object of Paul Burns was to gather general information. At that
period the world was not rich in general information. To discover, to
dare, to do--if need were, to die--was the intention of our big hero.
To be similarly circumstanced in a small way was our little hero's
ambition.

"Goin' to blow," remarked Skipper Trench, on the evening of the day on
which he sailed, as he paced the deck with his hands in his pockets,
and, as his son Oliver said, his "weather-eye" open.

It seemed as though the weather, having overheard the prophecy, was
eager to fulfil it, for a squall could be seen bearing down on the ship
even while the words were being uttered.

"Close reef to-o-o-p-s'ls!" roared Master Trench, with the energy of a
man who means what he says.

We are not sure of the precise nautical terms used,