rig, which he abhorred, the various ways in which we might go to the bottom, and the prodigious fleet of ships that have sailed out in the course of history, dwindled from the eyes of watchers, and returned no more.  “Well,” he would wind up, “I guess it don’t much matter.  I can’t see what any one wants to live for, anyway.  If I could get into some one else’s apple-tree, and be about twelve years old, and just stick the way I was, eating stolen apples, I won’t say.  But there’s no sense in this grown-up business—­sailorising, politics, the piety mill, and all the rest of it.  Good clean drowning is good enough for me.”  It is hard to imagine any more depressing talk for a poor landsman on a dirty night; it is hard to imagine anything less sailor-like (as sailors are supposed to be, and generally are) than this persistent harping on the minor.

But I was to see more of the man’s gloomy constancy ere the cruise was at an end.

On the morning of the seventeenth day I came on deck, to find the schooner under double reefs, and flying rather wild before a heavy run of sea.  Snoring trades and humming sails had been our portion hitherto.  We were already nearing the island.  My restrained excitement had begun again to overmaster me; and for some time my only book had been the patent log that trailed over the taffrail, and my chief interest the daily observation and our caterpillar progress across the chart.  My first glance, which was at the compass, and my second, which was at the log, were all that I could wish.  We lay our course; we had been doing over eight since nine the night before; and I drew a heavy breath of satisfaction.  And then I know not what odd and wintry appearance of the sea and sky knocked suddenly at my heart.  I observed the schooner to look more than usually small, the men silent and studious of the weather.  Nares, in one of his rusty humours, afforded me no shadow of a morning salutation.  He, too, seemed to observe the behaviour of the ship with an intent and anxious scrutiny.  What I liked still less, Johnson himself was at the wheel, which he span busily, often with a visible effort; and as the seas ranged up behind us, black and imminent, he kept casting behind him eyes of animal swiftness, and drawing in his neck between his shoulders, like a man dodging a blow.  From these signs, I gathered that all was not exactly for the best; and I would have given a good handful of dollars for a plain answer to the questions which I dared not put.  Had I dared, with the present danger signal in the captain’s face, I should only have been reminded of my position as supercargo—­an office never touched upon in kindness—­and advised, in a very indigestible manner, to go below.  There was nothing for it, therefore, but to entertain my vague apprehensions as best I should be able, until it pleased the captain to enlighten me of his own accord.  This he did sooner than I had expected; as soon, indeed, as the Chinaman had summoned us to breakfast, and we sat face to face across the narrow board.