Chapter 13 - Page 2

was about to go below.

"All my watch; I found them with the captain, who passed them over to
me for company. If that chap, the Dipper, only knew anything of a
human language, he would be something of society; but I'm as tired of
making signs to him, as I ever was with a hard day's work."

I was armed, and felt ashamed of manifesting fear of an unarmed
man. Then the two savages gave no additional cause of distrust; the
Dipper having taken a seat on the windlass, where he was smoking his
pipe with an appearance of philosophy that would have done credit to
the gravest-looking baboon. As for Smudge, he did not appear to be
sufficiently intellectual to smoke; an occupation that has at least
the merit of affecting the air of wisdom and reflection. I never could
discover whether your great smokers were actually wiser than the rest
of the race, or not; but, it will be admitted, they occasionally seem
to be so. It was a pity Smudge did not have recourse to the practice,
as it might have given the fellow an appearance of sometimes
cogitating. As it was, while his companion was enjoying his pipe at
the windlass, he kept strolling about the deck, much as a pig would
have wandered in the same place, and seemingly with the same object.

I took charge of the decks with a very lively sense of the peculiarity
of our situation. The security that prevailed on board struck me as
unnatural; and yet I could detect no particular reason for immediate
alarm. I might be thrown overboard or murdered by the two savages on
deck, it was very true; but of what use would it be to destroy me,
since they could not hope to destroy all the rest on board without
being discovered. The night was star-lit, and there was little chance
of a canoe's approaching the ship without my seeing it; a circumstance
that, of itself, in a great measure, removed the danger. I passed the
first quarter of an hour in reflecting on these things; and then, as
use accustomed me to my situation, I began to think less of them, and
to revert to other subjects.

Clawbonny, Grace, Lucy, and Mr. Hardinge, often rose before my mind's
eye, in those distant seas. It was seldom I passed a tranquil watch at
night, without revisiting the scenes of my boyhood, and wandering
through my own fields, accompanied by my beloved sister, and her quite
as well beloved friend. How many hours of happiness had I thus passed
on the trackless wastes of the Pacific and the Atlantic; and with how
much fidelity did memory recall the peculiar graces, whether of body
or mind, of each of the dear girls in particular! Since my recent
experience in London, Emily Merton would occasionally adorn the
picture, with her more cultivated discourse and more finished manner;
and