I can't express how jolly it made me feel--the wind I mean, not the champagne; for it was as much as I could do to refrain from shouting out aloud in my exultation, as it blew in my face and tossed my hair about, pressing against my body with such force that I had to hold on by both hands to the weather bulwarks to keep my feet, as I gazed out over the side at the magnificent scene around me--the storm-tossed sea, one mass of foam; the grand blue vault of heaven above, now partially lit by the late rising moon and twinkling stars, that were occasionally obscured by scraps of drifting clouds and flying scud; and, all the while, the noble ship tearing along, a thing of beauty and of life, mastering the elements and glorying in the fight, with the hum of the gale in the sails and its shrieking whistle through the rigging, and the ever-murmuring voices of the waters, all filling the air around as they sang the dirge of the deep! "You seem to like it, youngster," observed Mr Mackay, stopping his quarter-deck walk as he caught sight of my face in the moonlight and noticed it's joyous glow, reflecting the emotions of my mind.

"You look a regular stormy petrel, and seem as if you wanted to spread your wings and fly." "I only wish I could, sir," I cried, laughing at his likening me to a "Mother Carey's chicken," as the petrel is familiarly termed, a number of them then hovering about the ship astern.

"I feel half a bird already, the wind makes me so jolly." Mr Mackay quietly smiled and put his hand on my shoulder.
"Take care, my boy," said he good-humouredly, "you'll be jumping overboard in your enthusiasm.

You seem to be a born sailor.

Are you really so fond of the sea ?" "I love it! I love it!" I exclaimed enthusiastically.