now return to the cutter, which still remains at anchor off the
Point in Portsmouth harbour. It is a dark, murky, blowing day, with
gusts of rain and thick fog. Mr Vanslyperken is more than usually
displeased, for, as he had to wait for the new boat which he had
demanded, he thought this a good opportunity of enlivening the bends of
the _Yungfrau_ with a little black paint--not before it was required,
most certainly, for she was as rusty in appearance as if she had been
built of old iron. But paint fetched money, and as Mr Vanslyperken
always sold his, it was like parting with so much of his own property,
when he ordered up the paint-pots and brushes. Now the operation of
beautifying the _Yungfrau_ had been commenced the day before, and the
unexpected change in the weather during the night, had washed off the
greater portion of the paint, and there was not only all the trouble,
but all the expense, to be incurred again. No wonder that Mr
Vanslyperken was in a bad humour--not only in a bad humour, but in the
very worst of humours. He had made up his mind to go on shore to see his
mother, and was pacing the quarter-deck in his great-coat, with his
umbrella under his arm, all ready to be unfurled as soon as he was on
shore. He was just about to order his boat to be manned: Mr
Vanslyperken looked up at the weather--the fog was still thick, and the
rain fell. You could not even make out the houses on the point. The wind
had gone down considerably. Mr Vanslyperken looked over the gunnel--the
damage was even greater than he thought. He looked over the stern, there
was the stage still hanging where the painters had been standing or
sitting, and, what was too bad, there was a pot of paint, with the brush
in it, half full of rain water, which some negligent person had left
there. Mr Vanslyperken turned forward to call somebody to take the paint
below, but the decks were empty, and it was growing dark. A sudden
thought, instigated no doubt by the devil, filled the brain of Mr
Vanslyperken. It was a glorious, golden opportunity, not to be lost. He
walked forward, and went down into his cabin again, where he found
Smallbones helping himself to biscuit, for the lad was hungry, as well
he might be; but on this occasion Mr Vanslyperken took no notice.

"Smallbones," said he, "one of the men has left his paint-pot on the
stage, under the stern, go and bring it in immediately."

"Yes, sir," replied Smallbones, surprised at the unusually