We must still wait for an offing!" But at last, after many days, this anxiously awaited "offing" was, much to my satisfaction, apparently thought within reach by my old friend.
One morning I did not accompany him as usual into Plymouth after breakfast, where the old fellow regularly proceeded every morning--never feeling happy for the day unless he saw the sea before dinner.

I was busily engaged trimming up a large asparagus bed in the garden, wherein my adopted mother took considerable interest.
I recollect the morning well.
It was just at the beginning of summer, and the trees were all clothed in that delicately-tinged foliage of feathery green, which they lose later on in the season, while the ground below was covered with fruit blossoms like snowflakes, a stray blue flag or daffodil just springing up from the peaty soil, gleaming out amidst the vegetable wealth around, and the air perfumed with a delicious scent, of the wallflowers that were scattered about the garden in every stray nook and corner.
Sam was late on his return.
"Eight bells," his regular hour, had struck without his well-known voice being heard hailing us from the porch; and it was quite half-past twelve before the customary shout in the porch of the cottage told of his arrival, for I was keeping strict watch over the time, having been rendered extra hungry by my exertions in the garden--our dinner being postponed till the missing mariner came.
However, "better late than never," says the old proverb; and here he was now--although as soon as I saw him I noticed from his face that something unusual and out-of-the-way had happened, his expression always disclosing if anything was on or in his mind, and being a sad tell-tale.
He did not wait to let me ask, though.
"Hullo!" he cried, as soon as he came into the kitchen-parlour, where the principal meal of the day was invariably partaken of, "I've got some news for you." "A ship ?" I said, questioningly.
"Yes--an A1 too, my hearty." "Hurrah!" I exclaimed--"Going a long voyage ?" "To Callao and back again, on a round trip." "Better and better still," I said, in high glee, in which Sam Pengelly shared with a kindred feeling, while his sister put up her apron to her eyes, and began to cry at the idea of my going to sea.

"Is she a large vessel ?" "Aye, aye, my cockbird.

A barque of a thousand tons, or more, and her name's the _Esmeralda_.".