124 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES. 



and then she quite gave out, I opened the 

 stateroom-door, and with a graceful skip and a 

 bound landed under the saloon-table in search of 

 the captain. 



He was not there, however ; and so I picked up 

 a modest little pin, and stuck it into the lappel of 

 my coat, and came up smiling. One old chap, who 

 stood as firm as though he was planted, smiled too, 

 a sarcastic smile as though he doubted that I was 

 really after that pin : it irritated me, and I felt dis- 

 posed to be pugilistic ; but my better feelings tri- 

 umphed, and I rushed into his arms, and embraced 

 him like a long-lost brother. 



By means of forced marches, sudden halts, and 

 an occasional "double-quick," I succeeded in 

 reaching the forward deck, where I found less rain, 

 but more wind and sea. Here I also found 6ne 

 solitary son of the sea, pacing up and down, seem- 

 ingly very comfortable in his oil jacket and sou'- 

 wester. He cast his eyes in such a knowing man- 

 ner at the clouds and round the various quarters 

 of the globe, that, although I felt convinced that he 

 was not the captain, I was sure he was my weather 

 chronicler. Having secured a place in his track, 

 and found something to lean against, I waited till 

 he bore down upon me, then hailed him. 



"What do you think of the weather, sir? " 



