They turned, and Mr Vanslyperken paused a moment or two, and compressed his thin lips—­the dog did the same.  “I will have an answer, by all that’s blue!” was the ejaculation of the next six strides.  The lieutenant stopped again, and the dog looked up in his master’s face; but it appeared as if the current of his master’s thoughts was changed, for the current of keen air reminded Mr Vanslyperken that he had not yet had his breakfast.

The lieutenant leant over the hatchway, took his battered speaking-trumpet from under his arm, and putting it to his mouth, the deck reverberated with, “Pass the word for Smallbones forward.”  The dog put himself in a baying attitude, with his forefeet on the coamings of the hatchway, and enforced his master’s orders with a deep-toned and measured bow, wow, wow.

Smallbones soon made his appearance, rising from the hatchway like a ghost; a thin, shambling personage, apparently about twenty years old—­a pale, cadaverous face, high cheek-bones, goggle eyes, with lank hair very thinly sown upon a head, which, like bad soil, would return but a scanty harvest.  He looked like Famine’s eldest son just arriving to years of discretion.  His long lanky legs were pulled so far through his trousers, that his bare feet, and half way up to his knees, were exposed to the chilling blast.  The sleeves of his jacket were so short, that four inches of bone above his wrist were bared to view—­hat he had none—­his ears were very large, and the rims of them red with cold, and his neck was so immeasurably long and thin, that his head appeared to topple for want of support.  When he had come on deck, he stood with one hand raised to his forehead, touching his hair instead of his hat, and the other occupied with a half-roasted red-herring.  “Yes, sir,” said Smallbones, standing before his master.

“Be quick!”—­commenced the lieutenant; but here his attention was directed to the red-herring by Snarleyyow, who raised his head and snuffed at its fumes.  Among other disqualifications of the animal, be it observed, that he had no nose except for a red-herring, or a post by the way side.  Mr Vanslyperken discontinued his orders, took his hand out of his great coat pocket, wiped the drop from off his nose, and then roared out, “How dare you appear on the quarter-deck of a king’s ship, sir, with a red-herring in your fist?”

“If you please, sir,” replied Smallbones, “if I were to come for to go to leave it in the galley, I shouldn’t find it when I went back.”

“What do I care for that, sir?  It’s contrary to all the rules and regulations of the service.  Now, sir, hear me—­”