I had long since lost sight of the _Rata_.

In vain I scanned the smoke-laden horizon for a sight of her.
I never saw her more.

I could fancy Ludar stalking the deck, or scaling the masts wildly, in search of me; and then, when he found me not, with the cloud deep on his noble brow, crawling to his berth in the dark to tell himself that I was dead.
I wished that night he could have thought it truly! Will Peake, when the work of the day was done, was in vast great humour to find me of the ship's company.

He had scarce known me at first, so changed was I by the perils of the last weeks.

A score or more of swashbuckling 'prentices were on board the ship, he said; and, presently, when I saw them all, and heard their jests, and knocked some of their heads together, I could have believed myself in Cheapside.
Having been some two weeks on board, they were mightily proud of their seamanship, and delighted to call me (who had sailed as many seas as they had ponds), landlubber.
However, it mattered not, and we spent a merry night--at least they did--scudding before the wind, and watching the Spanish lanthorns rocking uneasily in the darkness a mile ahead of us.
When daylight came, there they were in a long disorderly line, never looking back, with canvas set, and still running.