he never could have ascended without
assistance--"I have stowed away some spirits in his hold, and he no
longer beats the devil's tattoo with his grinders."

"Now, my lad," said the captain, taking his pipe out of his mouth, "tell
me what's your name, what you are, and how you came to be adrift in that
barky? Tell me the truth--be honest, always be honest, it's the best
policy."

Now, it rather unfortunately happened for Willy, that these two first
questions were rather difficult for him to answer. He told his story
with considerable hesitation--believed his name was Seymour--believed he
was a midshipman. He was listened to without interruption by the
captain and crew of the vessel, who had gathered round to hear him "spin
his yarn." When he had finished, the captain, looking Willy very hard
in the face, thus addressed him:--"My little friend, excuse me, but I
have some slight knowledge of the world, and I therefore wish that you
had not forgotten the little advice I gave you, as a caution, before you
commenced your narrative. Did not I say _be honest_? You _believe_ you
are an officer, _believe_ your name to be Seymour. I tell you, my lad,
in return, that I don't believe a word that you say; but, however,
that's of no consequence. It requires reflection to tell a lie, and I
have no objection to a little invention, or a little caution with
strangers. All that about the battle was very clever; but still, depend
upon it honesty's the best policy. When we are better acquainted, I
suppose we shall have the truth from you. I see the land on the
lee-bow--we shall be into Cherbourg in an hour, when I expect we shall
come to a better understanding."

The _Sainte Vierge_, for such was the name of the vessel, which smelt
most insufferably of gin, and, as our readers may probably have
anticipated, was a smuggler, running between Cherbourg and the English
coast, soon entered the port, and, having been boarded by the officers
of the douane (who made a very proper distinction between smuggling from
and to their own territories) came to an anchor close to the mole. As
soon as the vessel was secured, the captain went below, and in a few
minutes reappearing, dressed in much better taste than one-half of the
saunterers in Bond-street, went on shore to the cabaret where he usually
took up his quarters, taking with him our hero, whose strange attire, so
peculiarly contrasted with that of the captain's, was a source of great