The Black Dog

During the next few weeks, Cardo Wynne was generally to be seen pacing
the deck of the Burrawalla, playing with the children or chatting
with some of the passengers. He walked up and down, with his hands
sunk deep in his pockets, and cap tied firmly under his chin, for there
was a pretty stiff breeze blowing, which developed later on in the
voyage into the furious gales and storms which made that autumn so
memorable for its numerous wrecks and casualties. Cardo was a great
favourite on board, his frank and genial manner, the merry twinkle of
his eye, and his tender politeness to the very old or the very young
had won all hearts. With good-natured cheerfulness he entered into the
plans and pastimes of the youthful part of the community, so that he
had made a favourable impression upon all, from the cabin boy to the
captain, and from the old general, who seldom left his berth, to the
big black retriever, who was making his third voyage with his master to
the Antipodes.

"Always a pleasant smile on his face when you speak to him," said one
of the ladies to a friend one day; "but I think he has a rather sad
look sometimes, when he is pacing up and down with his hands in his
pockets."

"Yes," said the other, with a sentimental air, "I wonder what he is
thinking of at those times! I'll make love to the captain, and see if
I can find out something about him, they seem very intimate. We must
try and cheer him up, dear."