ut one eye and, raising his right arm, with the hand
held flat and vertically, pointed toward the southern extremity of the
distant land, held it there for a moment, and murmured--

"A point and a half--east-half-south, distant--what shall we say--twenty
miles? Ay, about that, as nearly as may be. Mr Dugdale, just slip
below and let the master know that the land is in sight on the port bow,
bearing east-half-south, distant twenty miles."

I touched my cap and trundled down to the master's cabin, the door of
which was hooked back wide open, permitting the cool, refreshing morning
air that came in through the open scuttle free play throughout the full
length of the rather circumscribed apartment in which Mr Robert Bates
lay snoring anything but melodiously. Entering the cabin, I grasped the
worthy man by the shoulder and shook him gently, calling him by name at
the same time in subdued tones in order that I might not awake the
occupants of the contiguous berths.

"Ay, ay," was the answer, as the snoring abruptly terminated in a
convulsive snort: "Ay, ay. What's the matter now, youngster? Has the
ship tumbled overboard during the night, or has the skipper's cow gone
aloft to roost in the main-top, that you come here disturbing me with
your `Mr Bates--Mr Bates'?"

"Neither, sir," answered I, with a low laugh at this specimen of our
worthy master's quaint nautical humour; "but the first lieutenant
directed me to let you know that the land is in sight on the port bow,
bearing east-half-south, distant twenty miles."

"What, already?" exclaimed my companion, scrambling out of his cot,
still more than half asleep, and landing against me with a force that
sent me spinning out through the open doorway to bring up prostrate with
a crash in the cabin of the doctor opposite, half stunned by the
concussion of my skull against the bulkhead and by the avalanche of
ponderous tomes that came crashing down upon me as the worthy medico's
tier of hanging bookshelves yielded and came down by the run at my wild
clutch as I stumbled over the ledge of the cabin-door.

"Murther! foire! thieves! it's sunk, burnt, desthroyed, and kilt
intoirely that I am!" roared poor Blake, rudely awakened out of a sound
sleep by the crashing fall of his pet volumes upon the deck and by a
terrific thwack across the face that I had inadvertently dealt him as I
fell. "Fwhat is it that's happenin' at all, thin? is it a collision? or
is it a case of sthran