Then we drew nearer and knew that Captain Buckingham was hauling uphis anchor, and perhaps would take us on a long way, which he surelydid. The afternoon slipped on, hour by hour, and the fire snapped andcast its yellow light in our faces, and the kettle sung and the stormoutside kept up its mad business, and the surf its monotone.

"I was so, when I was a lad of eighteen or nineteen," CaptainBuckingham exclaimed. "I was a wild one, though not large, but limber andclipper-built, and ecstatic any side up, and my notion of human life wasthat it was something like a cake-walk, and something like a Bartlettpear, as being juicy anywhere you bit in."

CHAPTER II.

THE "HEBE MAITLAND." CAPTAIN BUCKINGHAM'S NARRATIVE.