“I dare to say it’s all true, Mr. Strand,” answered the captain of the forcastle, “for I’ve know’d some of them travelling chaps who have seen stranger sights than that.  No, sir, I calls these mountains no great matter; and as to the houses and villages on ’em, where you see one here, you might say you could see two on some of the desert islands—­”

A very marvellous account of Cook’s Discoveries was suddenly checked by the appearance of Cuffe on the forecastle.  It was not often the captain visited that part of the ship; but he was considered a privileged person, let him go where he would.  At his appearance, all the “old salts” quitted the heel of the spar, tarpaulins came fairly down to a level with the bag-reefs of the shirts, and even Strand stepped into the nettings, leaving the place between the knight-heads clear.  To this spot Cuffe ascended with a light, steady step, for he was but six-and-twenty, just touching his hat in return to the boatswain’s bow.

A boatswain on board an English ship-of-war is a more important personage than he is apt to be on board an American.  Neither the captain nor the first lieutenant disdains conversing with him, on occasions; and he is sometimes seen promenading the starboard side of the quarter-deck in deep discourse with one or the other of those high functionaries.  It has been said that Cuffe and Strand were old shipmates, the latter having actually been boatswain of the ship in which the former first sailed.  This circumstance was constantly borne in mind by both parties, the captain seldom coming near his inferior, in moments of relaxation, without having something to say to him.

“Rather a remarkable coast this, Strand,” he commenced, on the present occasion, as soon as fairly placed between the knight-heads; “something one might look for a week, in England, without finding it.”

“I beg your pardon, sir, but I’m not of the same way of thinking.  I was just telling the forecastle lads, down there, that there’s many a nobleman and gentleman at home as has finder hills than these, made by hand, in his parks and gardens, just to look at.”

“The d—­l you have!  And what did the forecastle lads down there say to that?”

“What could they, sir?  It just showed the superiority of an Englishman to an Italian, and that ended the matter.  Don’t you remember the Injees, sir?”

“The Indies!  Why, the coast between Bombay and Calcutta is as flat as a pancake most of the distance.”

“Not them Injees, sir, but t’other—­the West, I mean.  The islands and mountains we passed and went into in the Rattler; your honor was only a young gentleman then, but was too much aloft to miss the sight of anything—­and all along America, too.”

As Strand was speaking he glanced complacently round, as if to intimate to the listeners what an old friend of the captain’s they enjoyed in the person of their boatswain.

“Oh! the West Indies—­you’re nearer right there, Strand, and yet they have nothing to compare to this.  Why, here are mountains, alive with habitations, that fairly come up to the sea!”