That anchor did not "kiss the mud" for many long days
afterwards; and when at last it did, it was for the last time!
There were a number of boys in the ship, but two of them were my
special favourites. Jack Martin was a tall, strapping, broad-shouldered
youth of eighteen, with a handsome, good-humoured, firm face. He had
had a good education, was clever and hearty and lion-like in his
actions, but mild and quiet in disposition. Jack was a general
favourite, and had a peculiar fondness for me. My other companion was
Peterkin Gay. He was little, quick, funny, decidedly mischievous, and
about fourteen years old. But Peterkin's mischief was almost always
harmless, else he could not have been so much beloved as he was.
"Hallo, youngster!" cried Jack Martin, giving me a slap on the shoulder
the day I joined the ship, "come below, and I'll show you your berth.
You and I are to be messmates, and I think we shall be good friends,
for I like the look o' you."
Jack was right. He and I, and Peterkin afterwards, became the best and
staunchest friends that ever tossed together on the stormy waves.
I shall say little about the first part of our voyage. We had the usual
amount of rough weather and calm; also we saw many strange fish rolling
in the sea, and I was greatly delighted one day by seeing a shoal of
flying-fish dart out of the water and skim through the air about a foot
above the surface.
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