CHAPTER EIGHT.
A SUDDEN INTERRUPTION.
"Now, my boy," said Mr Mackay, who had the "first watch," from eight o'clock till midnight that is, I sharing it with him, speaking as we were just abreast of the light I've mentioned, although so far to the southward that it could only be seen very faintly glimmering on the horizon like a star, a trifle bigger than those which twinkled above it and on either side in the clear northern sky--"we've run exactly forty- six miles from our departure point." "Departure point, sir!" I repeated after him, my curiosity aroused by the use of such a term.

"What is that ?" "The last land sighted before a ship gains the open sea," replied he kindly, always willing to give me any information, although I'm afraid I caused him a good deal of trouble with my innumerable questions, in my zeal to get acquainted with everything connected with the ship and my profession as an embryo sailor.

"Ours was the Lizard; didn't you notice Cap'en Gillespie taking the bearings of it as we passed this afternoon ?" "Yes, sir.

I saw him with his sextant, as you told me that queer triangular thing was," said I; "but I didn't know what he was doing.

I thought our starting-place was the Thames?
We must have gone miles and miles since we left the Downs." "So we have, my boy; still, that was only the threshold of our long journey, and sailors do not begin to count their run until fairly out at sea as we are now.