"Steady; keep her so." "Steady it is, sir," repeated the man at the wheel like a parrot, to show that the order had been understood and acted upon.

"Steady it is." "Port a trifle now." "Aye, aye, sir," returned the helmsman, reversing the wheel.

"Port it is, sir; two points over." "Steady." "Steady it is." Whereupon, a straight course being now laid for the little port to which they were bound on the Isle of Wight opposite, the _Bembridge Belle_ steamed ahead, splashing and dashing through the water, that rippled over with laughter in the bright sunshine, lightening up its translucent depths, and leaving a broad silvery wake of dancing eddies behind her..