fellow,—­ cast off the yard-arm gaskets and bunt gaskets, and one man remained on each yard, holding the bunt jigger with a turn round the tye, all ready to let go, while the rest laid down to man the sheets and halyards.  The mate then hailed the yards,—­ ``All ready forward?’’—­ ``All ready the cross-jack yards?’’ &c., &c.; and ``Aye, aye, sir!’’ being returned from each, the word was given to let go; and, in the twinkling of an eye, the ship, which had shown nothing but her bare yards, was covered with her loose canvas, from the royal-mast-heads to the decks.  All then came down, except one man in each top, to overhaul the rigging, and the topsails were hoisted and sheeted home, the three yards going to the mast-head at once, the larboard watch hoisting the fore, the starboard watch the main, and five light hands (of whom I was one), picked from the two watches, the mizzen.  The yards were then trimmed, the anchor weighed, the cat-block hooked on, the fall stretched out, manned by ``all hands and the cook,’’ and the anchor brought to the head with ``cheerly, men!’’ in full chorus.  The ship being now under way, the light sails were set, one after another, and she was under full sail before she had passed the sandy point.  The fore royal, which fell to my lot (as I was in the mate’s watch), was more than twice as large as that of the Pilgrim, and, though I could handle the brig’s easily, I found my hands full with this, especially as there were no jacks to the ship, everything being for neatness, and nothing left for Jack to hold on by but his ``eyelids.’’

As soon as we were beyond the point, and all sail out, the order was given, ``Go below, the watch!’’ and the crew said that, ever since they had been on the coast, they had had ``watch and watch’’ while going from port to port; and, in fact, all things showed that, though strict discipline was kept, and the utmost was required of every man in the way of his duty, yet, on the whole, there was good usage on board.  Each one knew that he must be a man, and show himself such when at his duty, yet all were satisfied with the treatment; and a contented crew, agreeing with one another, and finding no fault, was a contrast indeed with the small, hard-used, dissatisfied, grumbling, desponding crew of the Pilgrim.

It being the turn of our watch to go below, the men set themselves to work, mending their clothes, and doing other little things for themselves; and I, having got my wardrobe in complete order at San Diego, had nothing to do but to read.  I accordingly overhauled the chests of the crew, but found nothing that suited me exactly, until one of the men said he had a book which ``told all about a great highwayman,’’ at the bottom of his chest, and, producing it, I found, to my surprise and joy, that it was nothing else than Bulwer’s Paul Clifford.  I seized it immediately, and, going to my hammock, lay there, swinging and reading, until the watch below was out.  The between-decks