But the daughter was different. She was sad enough, at times. Being young, however, the loss of her father fell easier upon her. We often found time to chat together during the day watches on deck, and she showed a marked interest in the ship, and the people aboard, talking cheerfully of the future and the probable ending of the voyage. Jenks interested her and likewise Trunnell; but the sturdy mate paid little attention to her, devoting all his time to the affairs of her mother.

Thompson, or Tackwell, still commanded the ship, and Chips and I agreed there was no use in forcing matters with Trunnell against us. We would bide our time and wait for him on making harbor. He was doing well enough now, and since the women had come aboard he had been quieter in his cups, staying below when not sober enough to talk pleasantly. His mustache he curled with more care, and his dress was better than before, otherwise he walked the deck with the same commanding air, and drawled out his orders as usual. He was the most temperate at the very times when I expected him to go off into one of his ugly sarcastic fits, and was evidently trying to carry out the remainder of the voyage without any friction anywhere. This made matters easy for the mates.

During this period of good weather the routine duties of the ship took the place of the fierce excitement of the past. The bright sunshine cheered us greatly, and the spirits of all on board rose accordingly. The day watches were spent in healthy labor on the main deck, bending old sails and sending below the new ones. A ship, unlike a human being, always puts on her old and dirty clothes in fine weather, and bends her new and strong ones for facing foul.

The poultry and pigs, which nearly all deep-water ships carry, were turned loose to get exercise and air. The "doctor" worked up his plum-duff on the main hatch in full view of hungry men, and tobacco was in plenty for those who had money to pay for it, Trunnell giving fair measure to all who ran bills on the slop chest.

The little shaggy-headed fellow interested me more than ever now, and he was in evidence all day long. His hair and beard, which resembled the mane of a lion, could be seen at all times, from the poop to the topgallant forecastle, rising above the hatches or going down the gangways, where he attended to everything in person. Since the night when he came aboard with his bloody knife, I felt strangely toward him. He never alluded to the affair again in any way whatever, but went at his work in the same systematic and seaman-like manner that had, from the first, marked him as a thorough sailor. He was always considerate to the men under him, and many times when I expected an outburst of fierce anger, such as nine out of ten deep-water mates would indulge in at a stupid blunder of a lazy sailor, he simply gave the fellow a quiet talking to and impressed him with the absolute necessity of care in his work. We had plenty of men aboard, and the crew of the Sovereign were turned to each watch and made to do their share.

After a few days, Trunnell came to me and told me I might choose a third mate for him out of the men who had been in the Sovereign's crew. None of the men of the Pirate he said were up to a mate's berth, except Johnson, and he, poor fellow, couldn't read or write. Jenks was too slippery for me after his hand in the fracas, so I asked the steward to pick me out a man from forward, thinking he would be able to note the proper qualities better than myself, as he was thrown in closer contact with the men. The steward, Gunning, was a mulatto, as I have said, and he was of a sympathetic disposition. Among the men who had first come aboard from the wreck was an old fellow of nondescript appearance who had very thoughtfully seized several bottles of Captain Sackett's rum to have in the small boat in case of sickness. This was made possible by the flooding of the ship, which made it necessary for the men to live aft.

The old fellow had apparently enjoyed good health, and had saved a couple of bottles which he offered to the steward as a bribe for a recommendation. This kindness on the old man's part had appealed directly to Gunning, and he had sent him aft to me as the very man I wanted. He was very talkative and full of anecdotes, proving a most interesting specimen.

"I ain't been out o' sight o' land before in my life," said he, in a fit of confidence the first evening we divided watches, "but old Chris Kingle believed everything I told him, and here I am, third mate of this hooker, as sober as a judge, waitin' to get killed the first time I go aloft. Bleed me, but I'm in a fix; but it's no worse than I expected, for everything goes wrong nowadays."

"Well, what do you mean by coming aft here as mate when you know you can't fill the bill?" I roared, made furious at his confession.

"Cap," said he, as calmly as if I hadn't spoken, "some men is born great; some men tries to get great; and some men never has no show at all, nohow. Take your chances, says I. Mebbe I'm born great, an' it only needs a little opportunity to bring it out—like the measles. Anyways, I never let an opportunity fer greatness come along without laying fer it. I'm agin it now, an' if y' ever hear o' my bein' at sea agin, just let me know."

"If you ever see the beach again, you'll have reason to thank me, and I'll just tell you right now, you can make up your mind for double irons until we get to Philadelphia," I shouted.

"Bleed me, cap, that's just about what I didn't think you'd do," the lubber responded. "Give me a chance, 'n' if I'm no good as third mate, I'll probably do as fourth. Try me. If I'm born great, I'll show up. If I'm not, I can at least die great, or greater than I am. I've lived on land all my life, but I know something about sailing. I'm fifty-two year old come next fall, an' if I can't sail a ship after all I've seen o' them, I'll be willing to live in irons or brass, or enny thing."

"You go below and tell Mr. Gunning to come here to me," I said, in no pleasant tone, and as the fellow shuffled off to do as I said, his bloated, red features told plainly what it had cost him to overcome Gunning and get the steward into the state he must have been to recommend such a fellow for an officer aboard ship.

When Gunning came aft, he was so ashamed of himself that I let him go, and he picked a mate from one of the quartermasters of the watch, while I turned the old fellow to as a landsman. This had no effect on his loquacity, however, for he never lost an opportunity for telling a sad yarn full of the woes of this life and the anticipated ones in the world to come. He had drank much and thought little, except of his own sorrows and ill luck, but as his yearnings for sympathy did no harm, he was seldom repressed.

We were three months out before we struck into the rains to the southward of the line, so there was an accumulation of dirty clothes aboard that would have filled the heart of a laundress with joy—or horror.

The Pirate was running close on her water, for the port tank had sprung a leak, and there was no condenser aboard. The allowance had been set at two quarts per day for each man. This was barely enough to satisfy ordinary thirst and no more.

For the first day or two we made good headway into the squally belt. The heavy, black, and dangerous-looking clouds would come along about every half-hour, just fast enough to keep the men busy clewing down and hoisting the lighter canvas nearly all day long, for some would have a puff of wind ahead of them and some a puff behind, making it all guesswork as to how hard it would strike.

After the second day we had the doldrums fair enough, and there we lay with our courses clewed up and our t'gallantsails wearing out with the continuous slatting, as the ship rolled lazily on the long, easy equatorial sea. She was heading all around the compass, for there was not enough air to give her steering way; so, after dinner, all hands were allowed to turn out their outfits on the main deck for a grand wash. When we were under one of those squall-clouds, the water would fall so heavily that it would be ankle deep in the waist in spite of the half-dozen five-inch scuppers spouting full streams out at both sides. The waterfall was enough to take away the breath, standing in it, but all hands turned out stripped to the waist. The scuppers were plugged, and soon the waist of the ship, about forty feet wide and sixty long, looked like a miniature lake with the after-hatch rising like a snow-white island from the centre, and upon which a miniature surf broke as the water swashed and swirled with each roll of the ship. Here were hundreds of gallons of excellent water to wash in, and blankets, jumpers, flannels, etc., were soon floating at will, while the men seized whatever of their belongings they could lay hands on, and rubbed piece after piece with soap. The large pieces, such as blankets, were hauled into the shallows forward, where the ship's sheer made a gently sloping beach. Then they were smeared with soap and laid just awash, while the men would slide along them in their bare feet as though on ice, squeezing out great quantities of dirty suds. Afterwards they would be cast adrift in the deep water to rinse.

I came to the break of the poop and looked down upon the busy scene a few feet beneath on the main deck. The water here was fully two feet deep in the scuppers when the ship rolled to either side, and the men were almost washed off their feet with its rush. Some of them had climbed upon the island,—the main hatch,—where they sat and wrung the pieces of their apparel dry. Among these washers was my old third mate, now transformed into a somewhat shiftless sailor.

The old fellow's wardrobe was limited. It consisted of his natural covering in the way of skin and hair, one shirt, and a pair of badly worn dungaree trousers. The shirt he had worn during the entire cruise, and perhaps some time before, and as it fitted him tightly, and as his natural covering of hair on his chest was thick, it had gradually worked its way through the cloth, curling sharply on the outside, making the garment and himself as nearly one as possible. This had caused him no little inconvenience in washing, and it was with great difficulty he had removed the garment. He had spent half an hour rubbing it with a piece of salt-water soap, rinsed it thoroughly, and had it spread out on the hatch-combings. His work being finished, he sat near it, with his knees drawn up to his breast, his hands locked around his shins, and his face wearing an expression of deep and very sad thought.

Trunnell came out on the deck and had his things cast into the water with the rest. Then he peeled off his shirt and stood forth naked to the waist, a broad belt strapped tightly about him holding his trousers. His muscles now showed out for the first time, and I stood gazing at the enormous bunches on his back and shoulders. He was like some monstrous giant cut off at the waist and stuck upon a pair of absurdly short legs, which, however, were simply knots of muscle.

When he had finished his shirt, he turned over the rest of his belongings to Johnson to wash for him. Then his gaze fell upon the unhappy-looking old fellow on the hatch, who was holding his single shirt now in his hands, waiting for it to dry sufficiently for him to wear it again. As the rain fell in torrents every few minutes, this appeared an endless task, and the old man grew more sorrowful.

"There ain't nothin' in this world fer me," said he, sadly, cc not even a bloomin' shirt. Here I am shipwrecked and lost on a well-found ship, an' sink me, I ain't even able to change me clothes, one piece at a time."

"Ye'll soon be ashore agin, old feller," said Trunnell, "an' then ye'll have licker an' clothes in plenty."

"What's licker to me?" said the old man.

"Why, meat an' drink, when ye has to quit it off sudden like," said Trunnell.

"It's clothes I wants, not no rum. Can't ye see I'm nakid as Adam, except fer this old rag? I wouldn't mind if I ware signed on regular like the rest, 'cause I could take it out the slop chest in work. But here I is without no regular work, no chanst to draw on the old man, an' next month, most like, we'll be running up the latitoods inter frost. I'm in a hard fix, shipmate, an' you kin see it."

Trunnell seemed to be thinking for several minutes. Then he spoke.

"There's lots o' bugs an' things forrads, ain't there?" said he.

"If by lots ye means millions, I reckon ye're talkin'," said the man.

"Well," said Trunnell, "I'll tell ye what I'll do. You get a sail needle an' a line to it about half a fathom long, see?"

"I sees."

"Well, then ye go about between decks, an' in the alleyways, an' behind the bunks, an' around the galley, an' earn yer own outfit with that needle, see? When ye have a string o' bugs a-fillin' the string like clear up to the needle's eye, ye bring them aft to me, an' I gives ye credit fer them in clothes or grog, each string bein' worth a drink, an' a hundred worth a shirt or pants. Do ye get on to the game?"

"I get on to it well enough," said the fellow, "but what I wants to know is, whether ye'll take me whurd o' honner that I'll catch a string o' bugs afore night, an' give me the rum now to stave off the chill."

"I will," said Trunnell.

The old man rose from the hatchway, and struggled hard to get into his shirt. The garment had shrunk so, however, that the sleeves reached but to his elbows and the tails to his waist band. He seized the open front in his hand and looked solemnly at the mate with his sad eyes.

"Lead me to it! Lead me to it! For the Lord's sake, lead me to it!" he said quietly.

And Trunnell went into the forward cabin with the apparition following eagerly in his wake.

What a strange little giant he was, this mate! "Discipline is discipline," he would say, and no man got anything for nothing aboard his ship.



XXI

We crossed the line in 24 west longitude, running close to the St. Paul's Rocks. These strange peaks to the southward of the equator caused some interest aboard, rising as they do out of the middle of the ocean a mile or more in depth.

The air was hot and muggy the day we crossed into the northern hemisphere, and the light breeze died away again, leaving the ship with her courses clewed up, rolling and wallowing uneasily in the swell.

Jackwell, as I must always call him now, spruced himself up better than usual, and paid more attention to the ladies. He avoided me at every opportunity; but as neither Chips nor myself ever alluded to the story we had heard from Jim, his courage rose, and he became more familiar with the men.

Up to this time, we had not sighted a single sail since the Sovereign; but here on the line, where the fleets of the maritime world congregate to pick up the north or southeast trades, we sighted many ships bound both out and in.

One of these that happened near us was the Shark, whaling brig of three hundred tons, commanded by Captain Henry,—a man who had sailed in American ships engaged in the deep-water trade for years before he had taken to whaling. This vessel signalled us; and when we had answered and found out who our neighbor was, we were invited aboard.

Jackwell was willing to go with the ladies, as he thought it might prove a diversion. There was no chance for a breeze, and the ships were within half a mile of each other, with a smooth sea between. He insisted, however, that I go along to command the boat.

Chips and I had from the first decided to try and get a peep at the captain's trunk, and this might prove our chance. Gunning's tale of its great weight gave rise to many high thoughts; and if it were gold, much might be hoped for if we landed our man when we made port.

A few words with the carpenter was enough, and then I got the men at work hoisting out the boat. I found time to try and persuade Trunnell to take my place in the small craft, but he was firm. It would never do, he said, to leave the ship without a high officer aboard. "There's no telling, Rolling, just what might happen in this world while a feller is on the deep sea. No, sir; go ahead and enjoy yourself. There's a-goin' to be some line jokes, I reckon, aboard that brig. If the skipper ain't been acrost before, he'll be liable to catch the fun as well as the rest, but he don't know nothin' about sech things."

I was a little suspicious at Trunnell's determination to stay aboard, especially when I found out he knew the captain of the whaler very well. However, I had the small boat hoisted out and made ready for the passengers. This time there was a compass and water breaker aboard, and a foghorn in the stern sheets in case of need.

Mrs. Sackett was helped into the small craft, and her daughter followed, both women looking brighter than at any time during the cruise. Mrs. Sackett was not a bad-looking woman at any time, being of about the medium height, with a smooth complexion, and her figure finely proportioned. Her daughter seated herself beside her in the stern, and Jackwell climbed over the rail.

He was dressed in a very fine suit of clothes, his shirt-front white, and his waxed mustache curled fiercely. His glinting eyes had a somewhat humorous expression, I thought, and he appeared very well pleased with himself.

Trunnell came to the rail and leaned over. "Good luck to ye," he cried. "We'll expect ye back to dinner."

"Keep an eye on my room, and don't let the steward disturb the charts on my trunk until I come back. The last sight is worked out on the one lying on the table," replied Jackwell.

Then the oars fell across, and we shot out over the smooth ocean to the brig that rolled lazily half a mile distant.

The skipper appeared in a most humorous mood, which increased as did the distance between the ships.

Me talked to Mrs. Sackett incessantly and actually had that lady laughing happily at his remarks. Miss Sackett did not rise to his humor, however, and her mother noticed it.

"Jennie, dear, why don't you laugh? Captain Thompson is so funny," she said.

"I will when he gets off a good joke, mother."

"Get off a good joke?" echoed the skipper. "Well, that's what I call hard. A good joke? Why, my dear child, I've gotten off the joke of my life to-day. Sink me, if I ain't played the best joke of the year, and on Trunnell too, at that. A good joke? ha, ha, hah!" and he threw his head back and laughed so loud and long that his mirth was infectious, and I even found myself smiling at him.

"Tell us what it is," said Miss Jennie.

"Oh, ho, ho, tell you what it is," laughed Jackwell, and his nose worked up and down so rapidly that I marvelled at it. His glinting eyes were almost closed and his face was red with exertion. "And suppose I'd tell you what it is, Miss Sackett? You wouldn't laugh. Not you. You couldn't rise to the occasion like your mamma. No, sink me, if I told you what it was, you wouldn't laugh; so you'll all have to wait till you get back aboard to hear it. But it's a good one, no fear."

We were now almost alongside of the brig, and could see her captain at the gangway, waiting to receive us. All along the rail strange faces peeped over at us.

"Way enough," cried Jackwell, and the oars were shipped. The boat swept alongside, and a ladder was lowered for us. I climbed out first to be able to assist the ladies, and as I gained the deck I was greeted by a strongly built, bearded man who looked at me keenly out of clear blue eyes.

"I'm glad to see you, sir," said he, holding out his hand.

I shook hands and turned to help Mrs. Sackett over the rail. Then came Miss Jennie, and last of all our captain.

Jackwell sprang up the ladder quickly, and stood in the gangway.

"How are you, sir, Captain Thomp—"

Captain Henry checked himself, looking at our skipper as though he had seen a ghost.

"Why, Jack—"

But Jackwell had put up his hand, smiling pleasantly.

"Jack it is, old man. You haven't forgotten the time I picked you up on the beach, have you?" he said, laughing. "Mrs. Sackett," he cried, turning, "allow me to introduce my friend, Captain Henry. Miss Sackett, also. Here's a skipper who hasn't forgotten the day I pulled him out of the water on the coast of South Wales, where he was wrecked. Sink me, but it's a blessing to see gratitude," he cried again, laughing heartily. "Fancy one skipper pulling another out of the sea, hey? Can you do that?"

"Well, I want to know," replied Henry. "I never knew you was a—"

"You never knew what, old man? What is it ye never knew? Sink me, it would fill every barrel you have below, hey? wouldn't it? What you never knew, nor never will know, would fill your little ship so full she'd sink, Henry, or I'm a soger. Ha, ha, hah! my boy; I don't mean to cast no insinuations at you, but that's a fact, ain't it? But what the dickens have you got going on aboard?"

He turned and gazed at the brig's main deck, where tubs of water and soapsuds were being poured into the trying-out kettles built in the brig's waist.

"Why," said Henry, "since you are a sea-capting, you must know the lay of it. Hain't you never crossed the line in a sailin' ship before?"

He had apparently recovered himself, and the surprise at meeting an old acquaintance appeared to give him pleasure.

Taking Mrs. Sackett by the hand, he led her aft up the poop steps, Jackwell following, keeping up a continual talk about whales and whaling skippers. Jennie and I followed behind and examined the brig's strange outfit.

The first mate, a man of middle age, lean and gaunt, came forward and introduced himself. He had sailed in every kind of ship, and was now whaling, he declared, for the last time. As I had made several "last voyages" myself, I knew that he meant simply to show involuntarily that he was a confirmed sailor of the most pronounced sort.

He showed us the lines and irons, the cutting-in outfit, and the kettles and furnace for boiling down the blubber. We followed him about, and I expressed my thanks when we arrived at the poop again, where he left us. Jennie was not interested, and the fact was not lost upon the old fellow, who turned away to join his mates at the kettles.

"Do you know, Mr. Rolling, I don't care a rap for ships," said she. "They don't interest me any more, and I don't think they are the place for women, anyhow."

"It would be mighty lonesome for some men if they acted on that idea and kept out of them," I answered.

We were all alone by the mizzen, the captains having gone below with Mrs. Sackett to show her the interior of the ship.

The young girl looked up, and I fancied there was just a sparkle of amusement in her eyes.

"Do you really think so?" she said. "Can't men find more useful occupations than following the sea,—that is, those who are lonely?"

"Some men are fitted to do certain things in this world and unfitted for others. It would be hard on those whose lines are laid out like that for them. You don't think a man follows the sea after his first voyage because he likes it, do you?" I said.

"Then for Heaven's sake why don't they stay ashore?" she demanded.

"Would you care for a man who would stay out of a thing that he was fitted for, simply because it was hard?" I asked her.

She blushed and turned away.

"I was not speaking of caring for any one, Mr. Rolling," she replied. And then she added quickly, "I think we will go below and see what they have for us."

"No, wait just one minute, Jennie," I said, taking her hand and stopping her gently without attracting the attention of the men forward. "This is the first time we've had a chance to talk of ourselves in two months. I want to ask you if you really meant that?"

"Meant what?" she said, stopping and turning around, facing me squarely.

"That you didn't care for any one?" I stammered, and I remember how my face burned.

She let me hold her hand and looked up into my eyes.

"I never said any such thing—that I didn't care for any one," she replied.

"Then do you, Jennie?"

She made no answer, and let her eyes fall. I let go her hand and drew myself up, for I was uncertain.

"I say, Rolling, what the deuce are you two doing?" bawled the voice of Jackwell from the companion, and then I realized that there was little privacy aboard a ship of three hundred tons.

We went aft guiltily, and met the rest coming up the companion with bottled beer and sandwiches which were served as refreshments. Chairs were set out by the old mate and two harpooners who had come aft, and the cook spruced himself up to get us out a plum-duff for lunch. From where we sat behind the poop rise, nothing could be seen forward, and here we ate and drank while Jackwell laughed and talked incessantly, being a completely changed man from the sarcastic and somewhat truculent skipper I had known for the last three months. It was finally suggested that as the awning was stretched, the plum-duff could be served on deck better than below in the stuffy cabin, so here we enjoyed the meal.



XXII

While we ate, Jackwell expanded more and more under the influence of duff and beer. He leaned back in his chair and gazed at the mainmast.

"What makes the top of your mast so black, hey? Is it the smoke from the kettles, or have you been afire? Sink me, Henry, there couldn't have been any such luck as your old hooker afire and being put out, hey? Ha, ha, hah! that would have been asking too much of the devil."

"It's hollow," said the old mate.

"What? Hollow? What the deuce is your mast hollow for?"

"Well, that is a question, isn't it, Mrs. Sackett?" said Henry. "Perhaps he asks you sometimes what a smoke-pipe is hollow for, don't he? I never seen such a funny man. But he'll never get over it, I want to know."

"Is it really hollow?" asked Jennie of the old mate.

"Yessum, it certainly is. Why, it's the smoke-pipe, you know," was the reply. "We have an engine in the lazarette that'll take us along more'n three knots in dead calm weather. It's been a lot o' help, when the wind has been light and ahead, fer picking up the boats. Ye know a whale always makes dead to windward, mostly, an' if the wind is light and we've got to go a long ways, the poor devils would most starve waitin' fer us, like they used to do in the old times. The lower mast is iron. There's lots of them that way now. The soot makes the canvas black sometimes, but there ain't no sparks to speak of ever comes out of that top, as it's mostly blubber we burns."

Jackwell became silent for several minutes, and then, as his eyes were still directed at the masthead, I looked again and noticed the topsail yard settled below the lower masthead.

"How do you suppose he keeps it up like that?" I asked Jackwell, trying to be civil.

"Keeps what up like what?" he said, in his old tone.

"The yard," I answered shortly.

"Oh, mostly by force of habit, I reckon," said he, nodding sarcastically at me and wrinkling his nose. "That's it, ain't it, Henry? Your yards stay mastheaded mostly by force o' habit, hey? They don't need no ropes."

I saw I was not forgotten, so afterward I kept quiet when he spoke. In a moment or two after this there was a wild yell from forward. This terminated into a deep bass roar, and we all jumped up to see what was the matter.

The form of a man sat on the starboard cat-head, and in his mouth was a horn of enormous size, the mouth being fully three feet across.

"Sooaye, Sooa-a-aye!" he roared. "Make way fer the great king o' the sea!"

I saw the fellow had on a long, rope-yarn beard and a wig to match, while a pair of black wings hung from his shoulders.

While he called, creatures swarmed over the bows. Men with beards and men without, some holding long spears and streamers, and some with three-pronged tridents, all having huge heads with grotesque faces, and forked tails which hung down behind.

"Hooray fer the king o' the sea!" bawled the fellow through the horn; and then the motley crowd yelled in chorus, some blowing huge conch-shells, and all making a most hideous racket.

Jennie stopped her ears and gazed, laughing at the throng. She had been across the line before in some of the older ships with her father, and knew of the practice. Mrs. Sackett and Captain Henry cheered and waved their handkerchiefs, but Jackwell sat silently looking on. Finally all of us went to the break of the poop, where we could get a better view, and just as we arrived, a monstrous form came over the knight-heads and stood forth on deck.

The fellow had a beard fully a fathom long, and he stood nearly two fathoms high, his feet being hoof-shaped. Gigantic black canvas wings hung from his shoulders, and a huge wig of rope-yarn, with the hair falling to his waist, sat on his head. He was escorted unsteadily to a seat upon the trying-out furnace.

"All who have to worship the king, come forth, an' stan' out!" yelled the man with the horn. This was greeted with cheers and blasts on the conch-shells.

Some of our men had never been over before, and one of the boat's crew confessed. He was quickly seized and brought before King Neptune.

"Sit ye down, right there in that there cheer," said the king, scowling fiercely.

The fellow sat down and stared, smiling at the monster.

"Have ye paid fer comin' acrost this here latitood, me son?" asked the king.

"No," said the sailor.

"No, what?" roared the king.

The chair was placed on the edge of the main kettle and the monster simply raised his hand to one of his retainers. This fellow tilted it up, sailor and all, into the smother of suds and water. Instantly there were roars of laughter, as all hands watched the man trying to get clear of the slippery iron tank. Every time he would get a hold, his fingers would be rapped sharply, and down he would go, floundering about. He was finally let off with a fine of a plug of tobacco, all his belongings save the clothes he had with him.

Other men followed, for the whaler had a crew of thirty-five. Some were shaved with a barrel hoop for a razor, and tar for lather, being finally released for some tobacco.

"Come aft, O king," bawled Henry, after the fun had grown fast and furious. "Come aft, and get a donation from the ladies."

The great fellow was escorted unsteadily to the poop, where he saluted the women.

"Have ye never paid toll to go to the other world, yet?" asked the king.

"No," said Jackwell, who was getting tired of the fun, "I ain't never been acrost, and I ain't a-going to pay toll."

"Shall he pay?" asked the king of Henry.

"Sure," was Henry's response.

Instantly the giant sprang upon the deck, getting clear of his stilts by some means or other. He seized Jackwell tightly around the body, and rushing to the rail, sprang into the sea, his followers yelling themselves hoarse with delight.

When they were hauled aboard, Jackwell was in a fury. I expected him to shoot the sailor who had the audacity to pitch him overboard, but he controlled himself. The incident, however, ended the fun aboard the brig, Henry, between fits of laughing, telling the mate to serve all hands with all the grog they wanted.

"Do not wait for me, madam," said Jackwell, to Mrs. Sackett. "I shall not come aboard my ship in this condition. You get Mr. Rolling to take you and your daughter, and I'll follow, after Captain Henry has given me a new suit of clothes."

This appeared to be the best thing to do, as the brig's men were now getting boisterous with the grog, and our men were drinking also. The ladies were tired of the performance, although they had enjoyed some of it very much, and they were glad when I called away the boat's crew to take them back to the Pirate.

Jackwell appeared at the rail as we started off.

"Rolling," said he, "tell Trunnell not to stay awake at night worrying about my health. This bath will not strike in and tickle me to death as you might be agreeable enough to suppose."

"Hurry and change your clothes, captain," cried Mrs. Sackett.

"Madam," said he, with great solemnity as the oars were dropped across, "do not grieve for me. It will make me unhappy for the rest of my pious existence if you do. Fare thee well."

We were now on our way back to the ship, and he stood a moment, waved his hand, and then disappeared down the companionway.

In ten minutes we were aboard again, and I met Chips in the waist as I stopped to get a piece of tobacco.

"Well, what was it?" I asked.

"Faith, an' I got caught," said Chips, with a sickly grin.

"How was it?" I asked. "Come, tell me, while Ford and Tom get the cushions out of the boat;" and I drew the carpenter into the door of the forward cabin where Trunnell couldn't see us.

"'Twas a fine thing ye made me do, but no matter," he began. "Ye see, whin ye had started well on yer way to th' fisher, I thinks now is th' time av me life. Trunnell ware sitting and smokin' on the wheel-gratin', an' all ware as quiet as ye please. I wint below whistling to set him off his guard, like; an' whin I sees me way clear I takes me chance at the afther-cabin, an' in I goes. I stopped whistlin' whin I makes th' enthry, an' I steered straight fer th' chist forninst the captin's room. The door ware open, an' I see the chist ware a little trunk av a thing, no bigger than a hand-bag, so to speak. Up on top av it ware a pile av charts an' things sech as th' raskil sung out to Trunnell not to touch. 'Twas a cute little thing to do; fer how I could get inter th' outfit without a-movin' them struck me.

"I finally grabs th' side av th' trunk an' tries to lift it. Ye may say I lie, but s'help me, I cud no more lift that little trunk than th' ship herself.

"Gold? Why, how cud it 'a' been anything but solid gold? I cud lift that much lead easy. I stopped a minit and took out me knife, me mind made up to thry th' lock. I give wan good pick at ut, an' thin I hears a sort av grunt. There ware Trunnell a-lookin' right down at me from th' top av th' afther-companion.

"Sez he, 'An' what may ye be a-doin' wid th' old man's trunk,' sez he.

"'Sure 'tis me own I thought it ware, by th' weight av it,' sez I.

"'Is it so heavy, thin?' sez he.

"'Faith, ye thry an' lift it,' sez I.

"He come down th' ladder an' took a-hold, shutting th' door to keep th' steward from a-lookin' in. Thin he takes hold av th' thing an' lifts fer th' good av his soul. Nary a inch does it move.

"'I wud have opened it, but I heard th' captin's order not to disturb th' charts atop av it,' sez I.

"'Ye would, ye thafe,' sez he. 'An' if ye had, inter irons would ye go fer th' raskil ye are. I never thought ye ware so bad, Chips,' sez he.

"'Tis a victim av discipline I am, fer sure, thin,' sez I. 'Ye know I wud no more steal th' matther av a trunk than fly.'

"'An' who give ye th' order, ye disciplinarian?' sez he.

"'Me conscience,' sez I.

"'Ye better go forrads an' tell yer conscience th' fact that it's a bad wan fer an honest man to travel wid,' sez he. 'An' tell him also to mind what I says about obeyin' orders aboard this here ship. If yer conscience iver wants to command a ship, he don't want to forget that discipline is discipline, an' whin it comes to thavery, discipline will get ye both in irons. Slant away afore I loses my temper an' sails inter ye,' sez he.

"So here I am, all in a mess wid that little mate. But th' trunk av gold is safe on th' cabin floor."

I had nothing to say further than that the matter couldn't be helped. If the trunk was all right, we might land a fortune yet in the reward Jim had told us about. Jackwell must have made off with a snug little sum. I climbed over the side again with some of the skipper's clothes, and we started slowly back to the brig to get him.

Ford was rowing bow oar, and Johnson aft, and both rowing easily made us go very slow. However, there was no hurry. Jackwell would in all probability take several drinks after his bath, and we would only have to wait aboard the whaler for him until he was ready. The sea was so smooth that the boat hardly rippled through it, and the sun was warm, making me somewhat drowsy. The two men rowed in silence for some time, and then Ford suddenly looked ahead to see how we were going.

"What's the matter with the bloomin' brig?" said he, rowing with his chin on his shoulder.

I looked around, and it seemed as though we had already gone the full distance to her, and yet had as far again to go. The Pirate was certainly half a mile away and there was the brig still far ahead.

"Give way, bullies," I said. "Break an oar or two."

The men made a response to the order, and the boat went along livelier. I looked at the brig, and suddenly I noticed a thin trail of smoke coming from her maintop where the opening in the lower masthead should be.

We were now within fifty fathoms of her, when Jackwell came to the rail aft and looked at us.

"Give way, bullies, you're going to sleep." I said.

In a few moments we were close aboard, but as we came up, the brig slewed her stern toward us, and then I noticed for the first time that she was moving slowly through the water. There was no wind, and I knew in a moment that she was under steam. She drifted away faster, and the men had all they could do to keep up. Jackwell leaned over the taffrail and gazed calmly down at us.

"That's it, boys, give it to her. You'll soon catch us and be towing us back again. Sink me, Rolling, but you're the biggest fool I ever saw," he said.

I saw the water rippling away from the brig's side, and now could see the disturbance under her stern where a small wheel turned rapidly.

"Throw us a line," I cried to Jackwell.

"What d'ye want a line fer? Are ye a-going with us to the Pacific, or are ye jest naturally short of lines, hey?"

"Throw us a line or we'll have to quit," I cried; "the men can't keep up as it is."

Jackwell let down the end of the spanker sheet, and Ford grabbed it, taking a turn around the thwart. The boat still rushed rapidly along.

"Rolling," said the captain of the Pirate, "hadn't you better go home and tell Trunnell he wants you? Seems to me you'll have a long row back in the hot sun. I'd ask you all aboard, but this ship ain't mine. She belongs to a friend who owes me a little due, see? Now be a sensible little fellow. Rolling, and go back nicely, or I'll have to do some target practice, or else cut this rope. Give my kindest regards to the ladies, especially Mrs. Sackett. Tell her that I wouldn't have dreamed of deserting her under any other circumstances, but this brig has got the devil in her and is running away with me. I can't stop her, and I can't say I would if I could. That infernal King Neptune has got hold of her keel and is pulling us along. Good-by, Rolling; don't by any possible means disturb the charts on my trunk. There, let go, you Ford."

Ford cast the line adrift, and the boat's headway slacked. The brig drifted slowly ahead, going at least three knots through the smooth water. A long row of smiling faces showed over the rail as we came from under her stern. One fellow, waving his hand, cried out to report Bill Jones of Nantucket as "bein' tolerable well, thank ye." It was evident they knew nothing of Jackwell and treated the going of the brig as a good joke on greenhorns.

"That beats me," said Ford, panting from his last exertions.

"An' me too," said Johnson. "If we'd had Tom and one or two more along we'd have beat her easy. But ain't he a-comin' back at all at all?"

"I hardly think we'll see Captain Thompson any more this voyage," I answered savagely; "but by the Lord Harry, he's left his trunk all right."



XXIII

When we rowed back to the ship, Trunnell was looking at us through the glass up to the time we came under the Pirate's counter. He evidently could see that our skipper wasn't with us, and it seemed as if he could not quite make up his mind to the fact, but must keep looking through the telescope as though the powerful glass would bring the missing one into view. We ran up to the channels, and he looked over the side. A line of heads in the waist told of the curiosity among the men forward.

I said nothing, and nothing was said until the painter was made fast and Ford had sprung on deck.

"He ain't with ye, Rolling?" asked Trunnell.

I was too much disgusted to answer. The empty boat was enough to satisfy any reasonable person.

Chips came to the rail and leaned over as I came up the chain-plates. "'Twas so, then? Th' raskil! But what makes th' bloody hooker move? She's slantin' away as if th' devil himself ware holdin' av her fore foot!"

"Steam, you poor idiots," I cried out, in disgust, for it was evident that even Trunnell couldn't tell what made the Shark get headway, although now the smoke poured handsomely from her masthead.

Trunnell scratched his bushy head and seemed to be thinking deeply. Then he put down the glasses and led the way aft without a word, Chips and I following. We went below and found Mrs. Sackett and Jennie in the saloon.

"Where's the captain?" they asked in a breath.

"Faith, an' he's changed ships, if ye please," said Chips.

"And left a little thing behind he would have liked to have taken with him," I said.

"What was the matter?" they both asked.

Chips and I tried to tell, but we soon made a tangle of it, the only thing coherent being the fact that the fellow was a crook and had left his trunk behind. This was so heavy that Chips had failed to lift it.

"I always knew he was not a sea-captain," cried Jennie. "I don't see how you men let him fool you so badly."

Chips and I looked at the mate, but he simply scratched his head.

"Discipline is discipline," he said. "He ware capting o' this here ship, an' there ware no way to do but obey his orders. No, sir, discipline is discipline, an' the sooner ye get it through your heads, the better."

"But he isn't captain any longer," I said.

"Well, I don't know about that," said Trunnell. "If he ain't a-comin' back, he ain't capting, sure. But ye can't tell nothin' about it. He may come aboard agin in a little while an' want to know why we didn't wait dinner for him."

"He sho' would take his trunk," said Gunning, "an' dat's a fact."

"Why would he?" asked Mrs. Sackett.

"'Cause he take good care o' dat trunk, ma'm. He sleep wid one eye on it an' his gun handy. I come near gettin' killed onct when I come into de cabin, suddin' like, while he was at work ober de things inside."

"For Heaven's sake, let's look at it," said Mrs. Sackett.

"'Tis th' best thing we cud do," said Chips. "'Tis no less than solid gold he stowed in it. Faith, it's as heavy as th' main yard."

Mrs. Sackett led the way to the captain's room, and Trunnell made no farther resistance. She opened the door, and we crowded inside. There lay the trunk on the floor or deck ahead of us.

"Try yer hand at th' liftin' av th' thing," said Chips to me.

I reached down and took hold of the handle at the side. Pulling heavily, I lifted with all my power. The trunk remained stationary.

"Dere's nothin' but gold in dat thing, sho'," said Gunning.

"Well, for Heaven's sake! why don't some one open it?" cried Jennie.

"An' have him a-comin' back aboard, a-wantin' to know who had been at it, hey?" said Trunnell. "I didn't think ye ware that kind o' missy."

"Nonsense!" I said. "He isn't coming back. Even if he is, it won't hurt to lift it, will it?"

"No, I don't know as it will, only it might upset them charts," said Trunnell.

"Try it," I said. "See if it's gold. It'll clink when you shake it, sure."

The little giant stooped and gave a grunt of disdain. "I reckon there ain't nothin' that size I can't lift," said he, in a superior tone, which was not lost on the women. Trunnell seldom bragged, and we crowded around, looking for quick results.

"A little bit o' trunk a-breakin' the backs o' a pair o' fellows as has the impudence to say they are men an' question the discipline o' the ship!" he said, with a loud grunt of disgust. "Stan' clear an' let a man have a chanst. If it's gold, an' ye're right, it'll rattle an' jingle fast enough; an' I hopes then ye'll be satisfied."

He took a strong hold of the leather handle at the side and braced his little legs wide apart. It was evident he would put forth some power. Then he set the great muscles of his broad back slowly, like a dray horse testing the load before putting forth his strength. Slowly and surely the little mate's back raised. He grew red in the face, and we peered over the treasure, hoping it would rise and give forth the welcome jingle.

Suddenly there was a ripping sound. Trunnell straightened up quickly, staggered for an instant, and then pitched forward over the trunk, uttering a fierce oath.

Mrs. Sackett screamed. Jennie burst into a wild fit of laughter. Chips and Gunning stood staring with open mouths and eyes, while Trunnell picked himself up, with the trunk handle in his iron fist.

"Faith, an' ye are a good strong man," said the carpenter. "Ye'd make a fortune as a porter a-liftin' trunks at a hotel."

"He can lift a little thing like that," said Jennie, mimicking the mate's tone to perfection.

Trunnell was now thoroughly mad. If the trunk contained gold, he would soon find out.

"Bring yer tools, an' don't stan' laffin' like a loon, ye bloody Irishman," he said to Chips, and the carpenter disappeared quickly. He returned in a moment with a brace and bit, a cold chisel, and a hammer.

"Knock off the top," said Trunnell.

"Discipline is discipline," whispered Jennie; "and I don't want to be around if the captain comes back."

Trunnell was too angry to pay attention to this remark, so he looked sourly on while the carpenter cut off the rivets holding the lock.

"There ye are," he said, and we crowded around to look in while the mate raised the lid.

Off it came easily enough. We stood perfectly silent for an instant. Then all except Trunnell burst out laughing. The trunk was empty!

"Well, sink me down deep, but that ware the heaviest air I ever see," said Trunnell. Then he picked up a slip of paper in the bottom and looked at it a moment. It had writing on it, and he unfolded it to read. I looked over his shoulder and read aloud:—

"MY DEAR LITTLE MATE: When you get this here billee ducks, don't do anything rash. Remember the discipline of the ship, first of all, and then take the dollar bill here and get somebody to cut your hair fer ye, as it's too loing fer a man of sense and is disagreeable to the ladies. If ye thought ye had a pot of gold in this here outfit, ye get left, sure, and no mistake. Remember money's the root of all evil and thank yer Lord ye ain't got none. There ain't no answer to this note; but if ye feel like writing at enny time, address it to Bill Jackwell, care of anybody at all what happens to be around at the time I'm there—see? Some day we'll meet agin, fer I'm stuck on the sea and am going to buy a boat and appoint ye as captain, only yer must cut yer hair and trim up yer beard some. That's all."

Trunnell held the dollar bill he had unfurled from the note in his hand and dropped the note back into the trunk.

"'Tis screwed fast wid nine big bolts to th' deck," said Chips, who had examined the outfit carefully.

Trunnell scratched his bushy head thoughtfully for a moment longer. "Is there any sech thing as a few men aboard this ship?" he asked.

I said I thought there was.

"Then man the boat and row, for the love o' God!" he roared, springing up the companionway to the deck, leaving us to follow after him.



XXIV

When we reached the deck and looked after the brig, we found that we had spent more time below than at first imagined. The Shark was hull down to the southward and evidently going along steadily at a three-knot rate. The sun was almost on the horizon, and if we started after her, the chances were that night would fall long before we could lessen the distance between us materially. Sober appreciation of the affair took the place of Trunnell's impetuosity.

"We'll niver see him agin," said Chips, hauling heavily on the boat tackles.

"There's no use, Trunnell," I cried; "we can't catch that brig in a whale-boat."

He was already hesitating, and stood scratching his shaggy beard.

"Avast heavin' on that tackle," he bawled. Then he turned to me. "You're right, Rolling, we've lost a fortune an' the rascal too, but it ain't no use making bigger fools of ourselves. Stow the boat. After that send Johnson aft to me with a pair o' scissors. You an' Tom can set the watches, fer ye see I'm capting of her now. Ye might say, on the side like, that the first burgoo eater what comes along the weather side o' the poop while I'm on deck will go over the rail. There's a-goin' to be some discipline aboard the hooker, or I'll—well, there ain't no tellin' just what I won't do. I'm capting o' this here ship, an' ye might jest as well muster the men aft to hear the news."

Then he disappeared down the companion aft, and I sent Johnson to him with the shears as he had ordered.

When Trunnell came on deck again in the evening, his beard was a sight to be remembered. It looked as though a rat had nibbled it in spots. His hair was equally well done by the artist, but Jackwell's last order had been obeyed. The men were mustered aft, and Trunnell announced that he was the man they wanted to stand from under. They remained silent until Johnson suggested that three cheers be given for the new skipper. Then all hands bawled themselves hoarse. That was all. I was now the first mate and took my meals at the cabin table, where Jennie and her mother had been wondering at Trunnell's dexterity with his knife. The little mate appeared to realize that a certain amount of dignity and dress were necessary for the maintenance of correct discipline aboard, and he accordingly changed his shirt once a week and wore a new coat of blue pilot cloth. He sat at the head of the table, and went through his knife-juggling each meal, to the never ending amusement of Jennie, and admiration of Gunning, who swore that, "dey ain't no man afloat cud do dat no better." He, however, came through the rest of the cruise without even cutting his lip.

My duties and rating being those of a first mate, I had no longer the pleasure of being intimate with Chips and the rest forward. The carpenter, steward, and "doctor" had the quartermaster, Tom, from Trunnell's watch for a second mate and companion at the second table. Tom was a Yankee and a good companion, so the change was satisfactory all around. I sometimes looked in at the carpenter's room in the forward house, where he and a few chosen spirits would be holding forth upon some nautical subject, but I had to cut my visits short, for they worried Trunnell. Being suddenly raised did not quite inspire the necessary respect in his eyes, unless the person promoted showed unmistakable dignity and authority by dressing down all who came in contact with him. For some time it was pretty hard to speak to our little skipper. He disliked anything he imagined might tend to lessen the discipline aboard and had a horror of a mate or captain being familiar with the men.

My room was still in the forward cabin, but I now spent much time in the saloon, and helped Trunnell to shift his belongings aft to Jackwell's cabin. The truculent knave had left little behind him save a lot of old clothes, bonds which were not negotiable, and some wrappers used by the bank of Melbourne for doing up packets of bills. Upon one of these was a mark of fifty pounds sterling, showing that Jackwell's assets, unless enormous, could be made to fit in a very small space. He probably carried all he owned upon his person.

We went through everything in the cabin carefully, but the only thing of interest discovered was the photograph of a plump young woman torn fairly in two, the lower half bearing the inscription in Jackwell's handwriting, "Good riddance to bad rubbish."

I had found this in the chart case and had examined it some minutes without comment, when Miss Sackett took it from me. She gazed at it a moment, and cried out, "Why! it's the third mate."

I instantly seized it again and looked carefully at the features, and then it was plain enough. There he was, in a neat fitting bodice, the curly blond hair stylishly dressed, and the plump cheeks showing just the faintest trace of the dimples of our former third officer. I looked at the back of the photograph. It had the name of a Melbourne artist upon it, and beneath, in a female hand, the written words, "Yours lovingly, Belle."

Trunnell heard Jennie's exclamation and came up. He took the picture from me and gazed long at the face. Then he gave a sigh which sounded like a blackfish drawing in air, handed it back to me, and went up the companionway, scratching his head in the manner he did when much disturbed. He said not a word, nor did he mention Mr. Bell's name, and that night at supper he never raised his eyes from his plate. Afterward in the mid-watch he came on the poop and walked fore and aft for three long hours without so much as speaking to me or asking the man at the wheel the vessel's course. He finally went below, carrying the odor of grog along with him. He came on deck many nights after this and walked fore and aft in silence, as though brooding over some unpleasant subject, and we were clear of the trade and knocking about in the uncertain latitudes before he appeared to be anything like himself again.

I avoided any subject relating to the earlier part of the voyage and tried to cheer him. I thought he had suffered keenly, and was glad when he stopped drinking and looked me in the eyes without letting his gaze fall in confusion. Sometimes I caught myself wondering at the reticence of the men who had rowed him to the burnt wreck that night, but I found that no one had boarded her except Trunnell and he had sent the boat astern.

Tom, the quartermaster, made mate under me, was a good sailor. He did his work thoroughly, and everything went along without friction throughout the rest of the voyage to the Breakwater. We picked up the northeast trade in a few days, and hauled our starboard tacks aboard, bracing the yards sharp up until it gradually swung more and more to the eastward, letting us off on a taut bowline for the latitude of the States.

The Pirate showed herself to be the fast ship she had always been, for we made the run up the trade in less than three weeks. Trunnell took such pride in her that all hands were tired out before we ran over the thirtieth parallel, with the scrubbing, painting, holy-stoning, etc., that he considered necessary to have her undergo before arriving in port. As mate of the ship, I had much opportunity to command the deck alone; that is, without the supervision of any one. Of course, I can't say I spent much time alone on deck, even when in charge; but I would never let social matters interfere with work sufficiently to merit a rebuke from the little skipper. He soon manifested a disposition to be alone during his watch on deck, and at first I believed this to be due to the exalted dignity of his position. It hurt me to think he should be so changed, and I pondered at the peculiarities of mankind for many days. After awhile, however, he became absorbed in a game of checkers with Mrs. Sackett which lasted two weeks. Then I forgave him. Whenever he saw Jennie and myself on deck, he would make haste to get through his business there, and dive below again. This kindly interest on his part was kept up until we raised the Delaware Capes.

How good the land smelled, and how distinctly. It seemed incredible that one could smell the land twenty miles away, almost before the color of the water began to change. Yet it was strong in the nostrils; and even one of the pigs we had not eaten, but had brought back alive, squealed incessantly, as though instinctively feeling that the voyage was over.

It was late in the afternoon, but the men were mustered aft, in the time-worn way of merchant-men, to sign off. Nearly all had bills on the slop-chest for tobacco or clothes. As each went over the poop he gazed at the line on the western horizon and smiled gladly. It meant a new life for more than one. Among the last to go was the old landsman whom Trunnell had given a chance to earn his clothes by bug-hunting. He smiled sadly at the setting sun over the dark line which meant home. Then he shook out several strings of vermin, and holding them at arm's length, stopped at the cabin window. His cheap trousers failed to reach the tops of his coarse shoes, and the gap showed the skin on meagre ankles. I was interested to know what he would take.

"What d'ye want?" asked Trunnell.

"I come for a yaller silk ban'kercheef," said he, offering the strings.

"Don't yer think ye'd better get some o' them woollens? It'll be cold on the beach."

"I got clothes a plenty. I want a yaller silk ban'kercheef. Yer got one, for Sam tole me so. I'm a-goin' ashore to Hennery's, an' I ain't goin' like no clown without a wipe. Kin I have it?"

The handkerchief was passed out, and the old fellow went forward smiling.

What a strange thing is the end of a deep-water voyage! Men who have been living together for months through suffering and hardship will go over the ship's side with a cheery farewell. They may meet for a few moments at the office to draw their pay, and then take a drink all around. That is all. They seldom see or hear of each other again. The world goes on, and they drift about, taking what part in affairs Fate has in store for them. One should come back aboard the ship the day after she makes her dock and look into the deserted forecastle and about the lonely decks, where so much has taken place, to realize man's lonely mission. The old ship-keeper, sitting alone smoking on the hatchway in the evening before unloading begins, will affront one with his presence. Where are the men, rough, honest, coarse, or even bad, that used to sit there so often in the twilight of the dog-watch? There is a strange yearning to see them again. I watched the sun go down with a feeling of mingled joy and sorrow,—joy for the return to the States, and sorrow for the parting which must soon take place between my shipmates.

When we came to an anchor and made ready to go ashore, the little giant Trunnell came up to say good-by to the ladies. I had decided to accompany them to the city.

When he shook hands, the tears ran down out of his little eyes and trickled over his bushy beard to the deck.

"I wishes ye all the best o' luck," said he, and he fumbled in his pocket for a moment, letting a small piece of paper escape and flutter to the deck. I stooped and picked it up, glancing at the writing on it. The words were:—

Mrs. William Sackett, 25 Prince St., E.C., London, Eng.

He snatched it from me and seized my hand, gripping it so hard I almost cried out.

"Go along, ye lucky dog," he cried. "Say good-by to Chips an' the rest afore ye goes ashore. We'll be berthed an' paid off when ye comes back."

I said good-by to the men at the gangway, and then helped the ladies over the side into the boat, seating myself in the stern-sheets between them.

"I should think you'd be thankful to get in at last," said Jennie.

"Yes," I whispered; "but I have no objections to sailing again as a mate."

Her hand closed upon mine behind the backboard.

"Neither have I," she breathed in return.

"Whose mate?" I asked her.

But that's an old story.

THE END