This we did so as to get well to the southward of the Cape of Good Hope, between which and ourselves a long stretch of some three thousand miles of water lay; although both Captain Gillespie and Mr Mackay appeared to make nothing of this, looking upon it as the easiest part of our journey.
Indeed, the latter told me so.
"Now, it's all plain sailing, my boy, and we ought to run that distance in a fortnight or so from here, with the strong westerly and sou'- western winds we'll soon fetch into on this tack," said he; "but, wait till we come to the region of the Flying Dutchman's Cape, and then you'll make acquaintance with a sea such as you have never seen before, all that we've gone through as yet being merely child's play in comparison." "What, worse than the Bay of Biscay ?" I cried.
"Why, that was only a fleabite, youngster," he replied laughing.

"I suppose you magnified it in your imagination from being sea-sick.

The weather off the Cape of Storms, however; is a very different matter.

It is quite in keeping with its name!" But, still, for the next few days, at first proceeding close-hauled on the starboard tack and then, as the wind veered more round to the west, running free before it, with all our flying kites and stu'n'sails set, the time passed as pleasantly as before; and we had about just as little to do in the way of seamanship aboard, the ship almost steering herself and hardly a tack or a sheet needing to be touched.

I noticed, though, Adams a little later on with a couple of men whom he requisitioned as sailmakers' mates busy cutting out queer little triangular pieces of canvas, which he told me were "storm staysails," the old ones having been blown away last voyage; while I saw that Tim Rooney, besides assuring himself of the security of the masts and setting up preventer stays for additional strength by the captain's orders, rigging up life- lines fore and aft, saying when I asked him what they were for, "To hould on wid, sure, whin we toombles into Cape weather, me darlint!" There were no signs of any change yet, though; and the hands got so hard up for amusement with the small amount of work they had to perform, in spite of Captain Gillespie hunting up all sorts of odd jobs for them to do in the way of cleaning the brass-work of the ship and polishing the ring-bolts, that they got into that "mischief," which, the proverb tells us, Satan frequently "finds for idle hands" to do.
Tom Jerrold and I were in the boatswain's cabin one afternoon teaching the starling to speak a fresh sentence--the bird having got quite tame and learnt to talk very well already, saying "Bad cess to ye" and "Tip us yer flipper," just like Tim Rooney, with his brogue and all; when, all at once, we heard some scrambling going on in the long-boat above the deckhouse, and the sound of men's voices whispering together.
"Some of the fellows forrud are having a rig with the skipper's pigs," cried Tom.