t
will be a foul wind for us. We must make sail before sunset, Mr
Blount."

"I think," remarked the younger man, "I see a boat crossing the bar,
there, right over that Madras fellow's stern."

"Well, I hope it may be them. We have more fever on board than I care
to see, and I hate this hot, unhealthy hole. Rouse up the watch, Mr
Blount, and heave short at once."

"Ay, ay, sir," replied the mate, touching his cap, round which ran a
narrow strip of gold lace, and moving away.

The captain remained where he was, watching the black specks, for there
were three of them, rising and falling on the waves outside Quillimane
bar. The decks of the brig were no longer deserted, and the shipping of
the capstan bars told that the orders just given were being carried out.

"Bring to, starboard cable," called the first officer from the
quarter-deck.

"Ay, ay, sir," was the ready response, for the seamen were tired of
riding at anchor off the bar, and the click of the capstan, as they
stamped round to a merry tune of the flute, was music to officers and
men alike.

"Up and down, sir," was the cry of the second mate, who on the
forecastle was superintending the duty of heaving up the anchor, and
which term meant that the brig was right over her anchor.

"Heaving away, sir," came again the cheering shout, as the anchor left
the ground and the men strained every nerve to run the heavy mass up to
the brig's bows.

The flute rang out a merrier tune, round and round went the capstan
bars, then came the second officer's loud shout of "Heaving in sight,
sir," as the men suddenly stopped in their merry round.

"Cat and fish the anchor, Mr Lowe. Bring to the port cable. Heave
short," were the brief words of command from the quarter-deck.

"All ready with the cat, sir," was the responsive shout, soon followed
by the customary words, "All ready with the fish, sir," while the men,
the starboard anchor being got on board, duly secured, or, in more
nautical terms, catted and fished, clapped on the port or remaining
anchor, which now alone held the brig, gently rolling to the swell, and
that in its turn being soon up and down, Mr Blount reported to his
superior officer.

"Do you make out the boats, sir?" he added, as Captain Weber still
remained looking towards shore.

"Ay, ay," replied the seaman. "There's Dom Assevedo's barge, the
lubberly Portuguese blowing and puffing like grampus at their oars."

"Rig out a tackle from th