sinking into the ocean astern when Peter made his way on deck; the coast with its sandy bays, rocky cliffs, and lofty headlands, their western sides tinged with a ruddy glow appearing on the left, while the calm ocean of an almost purple tint with a golden hue cast across it, stretched away to the right.

Peter felt its beauty and majestic tranquillity far more than he could have found words to express. The dark sails, the dirty deck, the begrimed countenances and slovenly dress of the crew contrasted with the purity of the sky and ocean all around.

The captain and old Jim his mate were standing aft, speaking to each other. They were apparently talking about him, for they cast their glances towards where he stood looking round and uncertain what to do.

He was aroused by the captain shouting to him: “You are one of the sleeping order, youngster, I see; you have had a long snooze; you will have to keep your eyes open in future. What is your name?”

“Peter Gray, sir,” answered the boy.

“Peter is enough for us,” said the captain. “Now go forward; your berth is in the forepeak, you will understand; and Jim and the cook will find you work enough. You don’t expect to be idle?”

“No, sir,” said Peter, “I came to learn to be a sailor.”

“They will teach you, and fast enough, too, with a rope’s-end if you don’t look sharp about you,” said the captain, with a laugh, “and soon make you dip your hands in the tar-bucket and swash-tub. Have you got any working duds with you?”

“I don’t know what duds mean, sir,” answered Peter.

“Not know what duds mean, and you a sailor’s son, as you tell me? Clothes, to be sure,” cried the captain, laughing again.

“I have got another suit for Sundays, when I go to church, sir,” answered Peter.

The captain and old Jim laughed in chorus at the reply.

“We have no Sundays aboard here, and don’t carry church steeples at our mast-heads,” cried the former, again laughing at his own wit as he considered it.

He and his mate were in a merry mood, for they had just had one successful voyage, and as the weather was fine they hoped to make another. The captain himself had taken a parting-glass or two with his friends on shore. So little Peter found him and his mate in their best humour.

“Do you hear, boy?” cried the captain, seeing that Peter did not move; “go forward and see what they have got for you to do.”

Peter did not know where forward was, but observing the direction in which the captain was looking, supposed it to be at the other end of the ship.

“I left my bundle down-stairs there, sir; shall I take it with me?” he asked.

Again the captain and mate laughed. Of course they felt their superiority to the poor ignorant little shepherd-boy.

“We have no down-stairs here, no more than we have Sundays; but your bundle is not to stop in my cabin, I should think. Get it and take it with you.”

Peter, having got his bundle from below, went forward, accompanied by old Jim.

“Now, lads,” said the latter to the four unkempt beings who formed the crew of the Polly, “here is a boy for you, and just see he don’t go overboard or run away; the skipper is tired of getting lads to do your work.”

The men looked at little Peter and grinned. “Now, boy,” said old Jim, turning to Peter, “come below and I’ll show you your berth. You must keep your eyes wide open, or may be you will not see it.”

The mate descended through a small hatchway by an upright ladder into a dark place, where Peter, as he was bid, followed him. He could hear the mate’s voice, but could not distinguish him in the gloom, which at first appeared impenetrable.

“Come here,” cried the mate. “What, are you blind?”

Peter was stretching out his hands trying to grope his way. By degrees a glimmer of light which came down the hatchway enabled him to distinguish old Jim, and as his eyes became more accustomed to the gloom, he discovered that he was in a triangular-shaped place, with shelves on either side which formed the bunks or standing bed-places of the crew, the heel of the bowsprit making a division in the fore part. Some chests were on the floor, and thick coats, sou’-westers, with numerous other articles, were hung up against the bulk-heads, which formed the third side of the forepeak.

“That’s your berth,” said old Jim, pointing to the foremost sleeping-place in the bow of the vessel. “The boy who has gone has left his blankets, so you will have the use of them. And mind when you are called you turn out pretty quick; we cannot have laggards aboard the Polly.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Peter, depositing his bundle in the dark, close-smelling bunk. “I am accustomed to be afoot by daybreak, to look after Farmer Ashton’s sheep.”

“You will have something different from sheep to look after; and night and day at sea are the same. All hands don’t turn in and sleep till the sun is up, or the ship would be apt to lose her way.”

A laugh at the mate’s wit from some of the other men who had followed them into the forepeak, was heard out of the darkness. When the mate was gone, they gathered round Peter and began to amuse themselves at his expense. He, however, took their jeers quietly, not attempting to reply; indeed, as he did not clearly understand their meaning, the jokes generally fell harmless. Finding at length that they could not irritate him, they told him to go on deck to help Bill. Bill was the man who did duty as cook. Peter found him in the caboose; he was as black and grimy as a negro, with grease and coal-dust.

“They told me you wanted me, Bill,” said Peter.

“Yes,” growled Bill, “clean out those pots and wash up the dishes and plates in that tub. Here is some hot water for you.”

Peter performed the work to the cook’s satisfaction. He gave him some bread and a piece of bacon for his supper, as he had eaten nothing since the afternoon.

Peter was standing watching the moon, whose full orb as it rose in the sky shed a silvery light over the ocean, a spectacle novel and beautiful to him, when old Jim, in a gruff voice, told him to go and turn in. Though he would infinitely have preferred remaining on deck, he did as he was bid.

He did not omit, before he took off his clothes, to kneel down and pray for protection for himself and all on board. No one saw the young boy in the attitude of prayer, or he would not have escaped interruption, but Peter knew that God saw him and heard him. Young and humble as he was, and unpromising as were the manners of those among whom he had been thrown, he felt no fear. His mind was at rest. He climbed into his berth and was soon asleep.