After a careful examination, Newton spread out the clothes to dry, over the cabin lockers and table; and depositing the articles of value in a safe place, he returned on deck.  Although Thompson had presented him with the trunk and its contents, he felt that they could not be considered as his property, and he determined to replace everything, and, upon his return, consult his father as to the proper measures which should be taken to discover who were the lawful owners.

The sloop, under the direction of Newton, had continued her course for two days against the adverse, yet light breeze, when the weather changed.  The wind still held to the same quarter:  but the sky became loaded with clouds, and the sun set with a dull red glare, which prognosticated a gale from the N.W.; and before morning the vessel was pitching through a short chopping sea.  By noon the gale was at its height; and Newton, perceiving that the sloop did not “hold her own,” went down to rouse the master, to inquire what steps should be taken, as he considered it advisable to bear up; and the only port under their lee for many miles was one with the navigation of which he was himself unacquainted.

The vessel was under close-reefed mainsail and storm foresail, almost buried in the heavy sea, which washed over the deck from forward to the companion hatch, when Newton went down to rouse the besotted Thompson, who, having slept through the night without having had recourse to additional stimulus, was more easy to awaken than before.

“Eh! what?—­blows hard—­whew!—­so it does.  How’s the wind?” said the master, throwing his feet outside the standing bedplace, as he sat up.

“N.W., veering to N.N.W. in the squalls.  We have lost good ten miles since yesterday evening, and are close to Dudden Sands,” replied Newton.  “I think we must bear up, for the gale shows no signs of breaking.”

“Well, I’ll be on deck in a moment, my boy,” rejoined Thompson, who was now quite himself again, and was busy putting on his shoes, the only articles which had been removed when he turned in.  “Go you up, and see that they keep her clean, full and bye—­and those casks well secured.—­Dudden Sands—­awkward place, too—­but I’ve not been forty years a-boxing about this coast for nothing.”

In a minute Thompson made his appearance on deck, and steadying himself by the weather topmast backstay, fixed his leaden eyes upon the land on the quarter.—­“All right, younker, that’s the head, sure enough;” then turning his face to the wind, which lifted up his grey curling locks, and bore them out horizontally from his fur cap, “and it’s a devil of a gale, sure enough.—­It may last a month of Sundays for all I know.—­Up with the helm, Tom.—­Ease off the main sheet, handsomely, my lad—­not too much.  Now, take in the slack, afore she jibes;” and the master ducked under the main boom and took his station on the other side of the deck.  “Steady as you go now.—­Newton, take the helm.—­D’ye