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And now I come to Frank’s first adventure. Hitherto, interesting as his life had been to himself, the recital of his progress must appear rather humdrum, especially as so much of the vessel’s progress must be left to the imagination, since we have been largely dealing with an individual.

Owing to his advance in the art of steering he had been made a regular helmsman, taking his “trick” at the wheel in regular rotation, and giving perfect satisfaction to the taciturn mate. The ship had reached the heart of the south-east Trade Winds, and was carrying all sail to a strong breeze, when Frank came to the wheel at two o’clock one morning. He had been at his post about half-an-hour, and was thoroughly enjoying the work of keeping the noble craft on her course, when he saw a figure emerge from the companion. He knew it was not the mate, for that officer had gone forrard some time before and had not returned, and besides he never came up the companion unless he had previously gone down that way. The figure stood for a moment or two at the top of the steps as if irresolute, and then coming aft to Frank peered in his face. It was the skipper, and his breath seemed to be almost scorching, while his eyes glared unnaturally. Frank felt uneasy, but steered on until the skipper said hoarsely, “Put your helm down, don’t ye see you’ll be into her in a minute?”