“Hallo! there goes the Firefly, bound for the South Seas,” cried Bob Croaker; “come, let’s see her start.  I say, Martin, isn’t your friend, Barney O’Flannagan, on board?”

“Yes, he is.  He tries to get me to go out every voyage, and I wish I could.  Come quickly; I want to say good-bye to him before he starts.”

“Why don’t you run away, Rattler?” inquired Bob, as they hurried round the docks to where the vessel was warping out.

“Because I don’t need to.  My aunt has given me leave to go if I like; but she says it would break her heart if I do; and I would rather be screwed down to a desk for ever than do that, Bob Croaker.”

The vessel, upon the deck of which the two boys now leaped, was a large, heavy-built barque.  Her sails were hanging loose, and the captain was giving orders to the men, who had their attention divided between their duties on board and their mothers, wives, and sisters, who still lingered to take a last farewell.

“Now, then, those who don’t want to go to sea had better go ashore,” roared the captain.

There was an immediate rush to the side.

“I say, Martin,” whispered Barney, as he hurried past, “jump down below for’ard; you can go out o’ the harbour mouth with us and get ashore in one o’ the shore-boats alongside.  They’ll not cast off till we’re well out.  I want to speak to you—­”

“Man the fore top-sail halyards,” shouted the first mate.

“Ay ay, sir-r-r,” and the men sprang to obey.  Just then the ship touched on the bar at the mouth of the harbour, and in another moment she was aground.

“There, now, she’s hard and fast!” roared the captain, as he stormed about the deck in a paroxysm of rage.  But man’s rage could avail nothing.  They had missed the passage by a few feet, and now they had to wait the fall and rise again of the tide ere they could hope to get off.

In the confusion that followed, Bob Croaker suggested that Martin and he should take one of the punts, or small boats which hovered round the vessel, and put out to sea, where they might spend the day pleasantly in rowing and fishing.

“Capital!” exclaimed Martin.  “Let’s go at once.  Yonder’s a little fellow who will let us have his punt for a few pence.  I know him.  Hallo, Tom!”

“Ay, ay,” squeaked a boy who was so small that he could scarcely lift the oar, light though it was, with which he sculled his punt cleverly along.

“Shove alongside, like a good fellow; we want your boat for a little to row out a bit.”

“It’s a-blowin’ too hard,” squeaked the small boy, as he ranged alongside.  “I’m afeared you’ll be blowed out.”

“Nonsense!” cried Bob Croaker, grasping the rope which the boy threw to him.  “Jump on board, younker; we don’t want you to help us, and you’re too heavy for ballast.  Slip down the side, Martin, and get in while I hold on to the rope.  All right? now I’ll follow.  Here, shrimp, hold the rope till I’m in, and then cast off.  Look alive!”