“I wish we were two hundred miles to the eastward,” observed the young master to his first officer, as soon as his eye had taken in the whole view.  “I am afraid we shall get jammed in on Cape Hatteras.  That place is always in the way with the wind at south-east and a vessel going to the southward.  We are likely to have a dirty time of it, Mr. Hazard.”

“Ay, ay, sir, dirty enough,” was the careless answer.  “I’ve known them that would go back and anchor in Fort Pond Bay, or even in Gardiner’s, until this south-easter had blown itself out.”

“I couldn’t think of that!  We are a hundred miles south-east of Montauk, and if I run the craft into any place, it shall be into Charleston, or some of the islands along that coast.  Besides, we can always ware off the land, and place ourselves a day’s run further to the southward, and we can then give the shoals a wide berth on the other tack.  If we were in the bight of the coast between Long Island and Jersey, ’t would be another matter; but, out here, where we are, I should be ashamed to look the deacon in the face if I didn’t hold on.”

“I only made the remark, Captain Gar’ner, by way of saying something.  As for getting to the southward, close in with our own coast, I don’t know that it will be of much use to a craft that wishes to stand so far to the eastward, since the trades must be met well to windward, or they had better not be met at all.  For my part, I would as soon take my chance of making a passage to the Cape de Verds or their neighbourhood, by lifting my anchor from Gardiner’s Bay, three days hence, as by meeting the next shift of wind down south, off Charleston or Tybee.”

“We should be only five hundred miles to windward, in the latter case, did the wind come from the south-west, again, as at this season of the year it is very likely to do.  But, it is of no consequence; men bound where we have got to go, ought not to run into port every time the wind comes out foul.  You know as well as I do, Mr. Hazard, that away down south, yonder, a fellow thinks a gale of wind is a relief, provided it brings clear water with it.  I would rather run a week among islands, than a single day among icebergs.  One knows where to find land, for that never moves; but your mountains that float about, are here to-day, and there to-morrow.”

“Quite true, sir,” returned Hazard, “and men that take their lays in sealers, are not to expect anything but squalls.  I’m ready to hold on as long as our neighbour yonder; he seems to be trimming down to it, as if in raal earnest to get ahead.”

This was true enough.  The Sea Lion of the Vineyard was doing her best, all this time; and though unable to keep her station on her consort’s weather bow, where she had been most of the morning, she was dropped so very slowly as to render the change nearly imperceptible.  Now, it was, that the officers and crews of these two craft watched their “behaviour,” as it is technically termed, with the closest vigilance