Mr. Baxter gives his consent. I suppose we must regard him as skipper."
"Oh, I don't think we need fear his refusing. He is very good-natured, you know, and lets me have my own way a good deal."
"Where is he now?"
"Down below, asleep. He has had a lot of running about to-day and thought he would turn in before we got under way. I think I had better be going now. Good night."
"Good night," I answered, and he left me again.
When I was alone I returned again to my thoughts of Phyllis and the future, and as soon as my pipe was finished, went below to my bunk. My berth mate I had discovered earlier in the evening was a portly English merchant of the old school, who was visiting his agents in Australia; and from the violence of his snores, I should judge had not much trouble on his mind. Fortunately mine was the lower bunk, and, when I had undressed, I turned into it to sleep like a top until roused by the bath-room steward at half-past seven next morning. After a good bathe I went back to my cabin and set to work to dress. My companion by this time was awake, but evidently not much inclined for conversation. His usual jovial face, it struck me, was not as rosy as when I had made his acquaintance the night before, and from certain signs I judged that his good spirits were more than half assumed.
All this time a smart sea was running, and, I must own, the Saratoga was rolling abominably.
"A very good morning to you, my dear sir," my cabin mate said, with an air of enjoyment his pallied face belied, as I entered the berth. "Pray how do you feel to-day?"
