“She’s a good boat by all seeming,” said he as they cleared St. Anthony’s light; “but she wants a sea-way.  I reckon, sir, you’d better stay on deck for a tack or two, till I find how she comes about.  I’m accustomed, you see, to something a bit sharper in the bows, and just at first that may tempt me to run it too fine.”

“Who wants you to run it fine at all?” asked Captain Cornelisz.

“Well, naturally you’ll work it in short tacks and hug the English side pretty close.”

“Short tacks?  Not a bit of it; tide’ll be running up strong by time we’re out in deep water.  Put her right across for France, keep her pretty full—­she won’t bear pinching—­and let her rip.”

“Risky.”

“How’s that?”

“Chasse-marees are pretty thick, I’m told, once you get near t’other side, ’specially between Morlaix and Guernsey, let alone a chance of dropping across a French cruiser.”

“My good man, I’ve been stopped twice on this voyage already by French cruisers:  once off Brest, and the second time about fifty miles this side of Ushant.”

“You don’t tell me!” says Jacka.  “How the dickens did they let you go?”

“Well,” answers the Dutchman, “I took the precaution of fitting myself with two sets of papers.  Oh,” says he, as Jacka lets out a low whistle, “it’s the ordinary thing in our line of business.  So you just do as I tell you and make the boards as long as you please, for I’m dropping with sleep in my boots.  Keep the ship going, and if you sight anyone that looks like trouble just give me a hail down the companion, for I can talk to any frigate, British or French.”

With that he bundled away below, and Jacka, after a word or two with the man at the helm, to make sure they understood enough of each other’s lingo, settled down with his pipe for the night’s work.

The wind held pretty steady, and the Van der Werf made nothing of the cross-seas, being a beamy craft and fit for any weather in a sea-way.  Jacka conned her very careful, and decided there was no use in driving her; extra sail would only fling up more water without improving her speed.  So he jogged along steady, keeping her full and by, and letting her take the seas the best way she liked them.  Towards morning he even began to doze a bit, till warned by a new motion of the ship that she wasn’t doing her best.  He opened his eyes and shouted—­

“Up with your helm, ye lubber!  Hard up, I tell ye, and keep her full!”

A pretty heavy spray at that moment came over the bow and took him fair in the face, and he stumbled aft in none too sweet a temper.  Then he saw what had happened:  the fresh hand at the wheel had dozed off where he stood and let the Van der Werf run up in the wind.  The fellow was little more than a boy, and white in the face with want of sleep.  Captain Jacka was always a kind-hearted man.  Said he, as he flung the spokes round, and the Van der Werf began to pay off:  “Look here, my lad, if you can’t keep a better eye open, I’ll take a trick myself.  So go you forward and stow yourself somewheres within call.”