CHAPTER I

SUNDAY, 12TH APRIL.-It was a decided treat to come on deck and find the sun had emerged from his retreat and was shining brightly, this being the first glimpse we had had of him since leaving Dover. Unfortunately there was very little wind, scarcely sufficient to shake out the burgee, so the Commodore amused himself and tortured us by taking a more or less according to the light in which the unfortunate sufferers look at it--successful photograph of the Corinthian crew.

Shortly after 8 the anchor was weighed and catted, sail got on her, and we drifted gently out of the Cattwater, past the Hoe, where as yet very few people were to be seen, past the breakwater, and we were off.

There was no more wind outside and we did not pass Rame Head till 10 A.M. Our course was then laid for the Lizard, from which point we meant to take our departure.

About noon the log was hauled, and we found

we had only run 15 miles. The log was set again, heaved over the counter, and the men went below to their dinners. Presently the Commodore, who was steering, called out to somebody to ease the foresheet. I was very comfortable and did not offer to move, so Mac got up and was strolling forward in his usual leisurely manner, when Underhill raced by him, and by the time Mac had reached the shrouds the order had been carried out. Mac's face, when he saw, to his intense astonishment, that his services were not required, and that the new-comer knew as much as he did, was a study, and when he had recovered from his surprise and said to Underhill in a deeply injured tone of voice, "How the did you know which was the foresheet?"

screamed with laughter.

we simply

The wind remained light all day, and it was not till 2 on Monday morning that we made. the Lizard, and formally took our departure, laying our course S.W.IS.

The wind, south-east, freshening up, we bowled along merrily. "On, on the vessel flies, the land is gone, and winds are rude in Biscay's sleepless Bay."

Next day at noon the Commodore was below working out the reckoning, and Mac was doing his spell at the tiller, when the Commodore called

up the companion, "How's the wind, Mac?" “D—— cold," was the prompt but useless reply.

On Wednesday the wind, which had shifted from W.N.W. to W.b.S., freshened considerably and a very nasty sea got up. At 7 P.M. we shifted jibs and took in a couple of reefs. Directly this job was over I went below, as it was not my watch, and it was decidedly damp and unpleasant on deck.

I turned in all standing, having only removed my oileys, but what with the various noises, as every now and again a sea struck the little vessel with a force which seemed to stop her and make her tremble all over, the crash of a wave as it came on board causing you to think for a moment that the decks were stove in, till you heard the swish of the water as it tore aft, and the unearthly groaning and moaning of the bulkheads and ceiling, sleep was impossible. At II Mac and I were called up to help in taking in the third reef, and when we came on deck we found the wind had shifted again to S.W.b.W. It was now blowing very hard, and as every now and then she would give a fearful lurch, we found it almost impossible to keep our legs without holding on. It was no easy matter taking in this third reef, as the boat was rolling about in a most uncanny way. When we had hold of the tackle we had

to wait till she was fairly steady and then all pull together; then the roll when the heavy boom would take charge of us, and swinging us over skylights and companion, deposit us in the lee scuppers, still holding on to the tackle like grim death. This amusement was repeated so often, that by the time we had got the reef made fast I don't think any one of us had escaped without a varied assortment of bumps and bruises.

In one of the worst of these lurches Mac, who had gone forward with Underhill to take a pull on the peak halliards, suddenly let go his hold, slipped up, and was literally brought up standing by the bulwarks, but not content with that, he was in the act of taking a somersault backwards over the ridge rope-which the Commodore had luckily had rigged before the start-when Underhill seized him by his oileys, and lugged him out of danger. After this the Commodore ordered him below, an order which he obeyed with delightful alacrity.

By this time we had got the boat pretty snug, so we invaded the cabin, as we all felt we stood in need of a dose of rum, for to add to our discomforts it was a horribly cold night. We found Mac had made his bed on the cabin floor-as he could not have stopped in his bunk-and was lying down smoking contentedly.