http://www.Gutenberg.us - Project Gutenberg Consortia Center Collection, a member of the World eBook Library, bringing the world's eBook collections together.

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or full complete details are online at: http://gutenberg.net/license.

Here are 3 of the more major items to consider:

1. The eBooks on the PG sites are not 100% public domain, some of them are copyrighted and used by permission and thus you may charge for redistribution only via direct permission from the copyright holders.
2. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark [TM]. For any other purpose than to redistribute eBooks containing the entire Project Gutenberg file free of charge and with the headers intact, permission is required.
3. The public domain status is per U.S. copyright law. This eBook is from the Project Gutenberg Consortium Center of the United States.

The mission of the Project Gutenberg Consortia Center is to provide a similar framework for the collection of eBook collections as does Project Gutenberg for single eBooks, operating under the practices, and general guidelines of Project Gutenberg. The major additional function of Project Gutenberg Consortia Center is to manage the addition of large collections of eBooks from other eBook creation and collection centers around the world.

---

 

Title: Many Cargoes

Author: W.W. Jacobs

Release Date: May, 2004 [EBook #5758]

[Posted: August 28, 2002]







                 MANY CARGOES 




Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.




MANY CARGOES

BY

W.W. JACOBS

Second Edition

New York
1894





CONTENTS


A CHANGE OF TREATMENT
A LOVE PASSAGE
THE CAPTAIN'S EXPLOIT
CONTRABAND OF WAR
A BLACK AFFAIR
THE SKIPPER OF THE "OSPREY"
IN BORROWED PLUMES
THE BOATSWAIN'S WATCH
LOW WATER
IN MID-ATLANTIC
AFTER THE INQUEST
IN LIMEHOUSE REACH
AN ELABORATE ELOPEMENT
THE COOK OF THE "GANNET"
A BENEFIT PERFORMANCE
A CASE OF DESERTION
OUTSAILED
MATED
THE RIVAL BEAUTIES
MRS. BUNKER'S CHAPERON
A HARBOUR OF REFUGE




A CHANGE OF TREATMENT


"Yes, I've sailed under some 'cute skippers in my time," said the night-
watchman; "them that go down in big ships see the wonders o' the deep,
you know," he added with a sudden chuckle, "but the one I'm going to
tell you about ought never to have been trusted out without 'is ma. A
good many o' my skippers had fads, but this one was the worst I ever
sailed under.

"It's some few years ago now; I'd shipped on his barque, the John
Elliott, as slow-going an old tub as ever I was aboard of, when I wasn't
in quite a fit an' proper state to know what I was doing, an' I hadn't
been in her two days afore I found out his 'obby through overhearing a
few remarks made by the second mate, who came up from dinner in a hurry
to make 'em. 'I don't mind saws an' knives hung round the cabin,' he ses
to the fust mate, 'but when a chap has a 'uman 'and alongside 'is plate,
studying it while folks is at their food, it's more than a Christian man
can stand.'

"'That's nothing,' ses the fust mate, who had sailed with the barque
afore. 'He's half crazy on doctoring. We nearly had a mutiny aboard once
owing to his wanting to hold a post-mortem on a man what fell from the
mast-head. Wanted to see what the poor feller died of.'

"'I call it unwholesome,' ses the second mate very savage.' He offered
me a pill at breakfast the size of a small marble; quite put me off my
feed, it did.'

"Of course, the skipper's fad soon got known for'ard. But I didn't think
much about it, till one day I seed old Dan'l Dennis sitting on a locker
reading. Every now and then he'd shut the book, an' look up, closing 'is
eyes, an' moving his lips like a hen drinking, an' then look down at the
book again.

"'Why, Dan,' I ses, 'what's up? you ain't larning lessons at your time
o' life?'

"'Yes, I am,' ses Dan very soft. 'You might hear me say it, it's this
one about heart disease.'

"He hands over the book, which was stuck full o' all kinds o' diseases,
and winks at me 'ard.

"'Picked it up on a book-stall,' he ses; then he shut 'is eyes an' said
his piece wonderful. It made me quite queer to listen to 'im. 'That's
how I feel,' ses he, when he'd finished. 'Just strength enough to get to
bed. Lend a hand, Bill, an' go an' fetch the doctor.'

"Then I see his little game, but I wasn't going to run any risks, so I
just mentioned, permiscous like, to the cook as old Dan seemed rather
queer, an' went back an' tried to borrer the book, being always fond of
reading. Old Dan pretended he was too ill to hear what I was saying, an'
afore I could take it away from him, the skipper comes hurrying down
with a bag in his 'and.

"'What's the matter, my man?' ses he, 'what's the matter?'

"'I'm all right, sir,' ses old Dan, "cept that I've been swoonding away
a little.'

"'Tell me exactly how you feel,' ses the skipper, feeling his pulse.

"Then old Dan said his piece over to him, an' the skipper shook his head
an' looked very solemn.

"'How long have you been like this?' he ses.

"'Four or five years, sir,' ses Dan. 'It ain't nothing serious, sir, is
it?'

"'You lie quite still,' ses the skipper, putting a little trumpet thing
to his chest an' then listening. 'Um! there's serious mischief here I'm
afraid, the prognotice is very bad.'

"'Prog what, sir?' ses Dan, staring.

"'Prognotice,' ses the skipper, at least I think that's the word he
said. 'You keep perfectly still, an' I'll go an' mix you up a draught,
and tell the cook to get some strong beef-tea on.'

"Well, the skipper 'ad no sooner gone, than Cornish Harry, a great big
lumbering chap o' six feet two, goes up to old Dan, an' he ses, 'Gimme
that book.'

"'Go away,' says Dan, 'don't come worrying 'ere; you 'eard the skipper
say how bad my prognotice was.'

"'You lend me the book,' ses Harry, ketching hold of him, 'or else I'll
bang you first, and split to the skipper arterwards. I believe I'm a bit
consumptive. Anyway, I'm going to see.'

"He dragged the book away from the old man, and began to study. There
was so many complaints in it he was almost tempted to have something
else instead of consumption, but he decided on that at last, an' he got
a cough what worried the fo'c'sle all night long, an' the next day, when
the skipper came down to see Dan, he could 'ardly 'ear hisself speak.

"'That's a nasty cough you've got, my man,' ses he, looking at Harry.

"'Oh, it's nothing, sir,' ses Harry, careless like. 'I've 'ad it for
months now off and on. I think it's perspiring so of a night does it."

"'What?' ses the skipper. 'Do you perspire of a night?'

"'Dredful,' ses Harry. 'You could wring the clo'es out. I s'pose it's
healthy for me, ain't it, sir?'

"'Undo your shirt,' ses the skipper, going over to him, an' sticking the
trumpet agin him. 'Now take a deep breath. Don't cough.'

"'I can't help it, sir,' ses Harry, 'it will come. Seems to tear me to
pieces.'

"'You get to bed at once," says the skipper, taking away the trumpet,
an' shaking his 'ed. 'It's a fortunate thing for you, my lad, you're in
skilled hands. With care, I believe I can pull you round. How does that
medicine suit you, Dan?'

"'Beautiful, sir,' says Dan. 'It's wonderful soothing, I slep' like a
new-born babe arter it.'

'"I'll send you some more,' ses the skipper. 'You're not to get up mind,
either of you.'

"'All right, sir,' ses the two in very faint voices, an' the skipper
went away arter telling us to be careful not to make a noise.

"We all thought it a fine joke at first, but the airs them two chaps
give themselves was something sickening. Being in bed all day, they was
naturally wakeful of a night, and they used to call across the fo'c'sle
inquiring arter each other's healths, an' waking us other chaps up. An'
they'd swop beef-tea an' jellies with each other, an' Dan 'ud try an'
coax a little port wine out o' Harry, which he 'ad to make blood with,
but Harry 'ud say he hadn't made enough that day, an! he'd drink to the
better health of old Dan's prognotice, an' smack his lips until it drove
us a'most crazy to 'ear him.

"Arter these chaps had been ill two days, the other fellers began to put
their heads together, being maddened by the smell o' beef-tea an' the
like, an' said they was going to be ill too, and both the invalids got
into a fearful state of excitement.

"'You'll only spoil it for all of us,' ses Harry, 'and you don't know
what to have without the book.'

"'It's all very well doing your work as well as our own,' ses one of the
men. 'It's our turn now. It's time you two got well.'

"'WELL? ses Harry, 'well? Why you silly iggernerant chaps, we shan't
never get well, people with our complaints never do. You ought to know
that.'

"'Well, I shall split, 'ses one of them. "'You do!' ses Harry, 'you do,
an' I'll put a 'ed on you that all the port wine and jellies in the
world wouldn't cure. 'Sides, don't you think the skipper knows what's
the matter with us?'

"'Afore the other chap could reply, the skipper hisself comes down,
accompanied by the fust mate, with a look on his face which made Harry
give the deepest and hollowest cough he'd ever done.

"'What they reely want,' ses the skipper, turning to the mate, 'is
keerful nussing.'

"'I wish you'd let me nuss 'em,' ses the fust mate, 'only ten minutes--
I'd put 'em both on their legs, an' running for their lives into the
bargain, in ten minutes.'

"'Hold your tongue, sir,' ses the skipper; 'what you say is unfeeling,
besides being an insult to me. Do you think I studied medicine all these
years without knowing when a man's ill?'

"The fust mate growled something and went on deck, and the skipper
started examining of 'em again. He said they was wonderfully patient
lying in bed so long, an' he had 'em wrapped up in bedclo'es and carried
on deck, so as the pure air could have a go at 'em. WE had to do the
carrying, an' there they sat, breathing the pure air, and looking at the
fust mate out of the corners of their eyes. If they wanted anything from
below one of us had to go an' fetch it, an' by the time they was taken
down to bed again, we all resolved to be took ill too.

"Only two of 'em did it though, for Harry, who was a powerful, ugly-
tempered chap, swore he'd do all sorts o' dreadful things to us if we
didn't keep well and hearty, an' all 'cept these two did. One of 'em,
Mike Rafferty, laid up with a swelling on his ribs, which I knew myself
he 'ad 'ad for fifteen years, and the other chap had paralysis. I never
saw a man so reely happy as the skipper was. He was up an down with his
medicines and his instruments all day long, and used to make notes of
the cases in a big pocket-book, and read 'em to the second mate at
mealtimes.

"The fo'c'sle had been turned into hospital about a week, an' I was on
deck doing some odd job or the other, when the cook comes up to me
pulling a face as long as a fiddle.

"'Nother invalid,' ses he; 'fust mate's gone stark, staring mad!'

"'Mad?' ses I.

"'Yes,' ses he. 'He's got a big basin in the galley, an' he's laughing
like a hyener an' mixing bilge-water an' ink, an' paraffin an' butter
an' soap an' all sorts o' things up together. The smell's enough to kill
a man; I've had to come away.'

"Curious-like, I jest walked up to the galley an' puts my 'ed in, an'
there was the mate as the cook said, smiling all over his face, and
ladling some thick sticky stuff into a stone bottle.

"'How's the pore sufferers, sir?' ses he, stepping out of the galley
jest as the skipper was going by.

"'They're very bad; but I hope for the best," ses the skipper, looking
at him hard. 'I'm glad to see you've turned a bit more feeling.'

"'Yes, sir,' ses the mate. 'I didn't think so at fust, but I can see now
them chaps is all very ill. You'll s'cuse me saying it, but I don't
quite approve of your treatment.'

"I thought the skipper would ha' bust.

"'My treatment?' ses he. 'My treatment? What do you know about it ?'

"'You're treating 'em wrong, sir,' ses the mate. 'I have here' (patting
the jar) 'a remedy which 'ud cure them all if you'd only let me try it.'

"'Pooh!' ses the skipper. 'One medicine cure all diseases! The old
story. What is it? Where'd you get it from?' ses he.

"'I brought the ingredients aboard with me,' ses the mate. 'It's a
wonderful medicine discovered by my grandmother, an' if I might only try
it I'd thoroughly cure them pore chaps.'

"'Rubbish!' ses the skipper.

"'Very well, sir,' ses the mate, shrugging his shoulders. "O' course, if
you won't let me you won't. Still I tell you, if you'd let me try I'd
cure 'em all in two days. That's a fair challenge.'

"Well, they talked, and talked, and talked, until at last the skipper
give way and went down below with the mate, and told the chaps they was
to take the new medicine for two days, jest to prove the mate was wrong.

"'Let pore old Dan try it first, sir,' ses Harry, starting up, an'
sniffing as the mate took the cork out; 'he's been awful bad since
you've been away.'

"'Harry's worse than I am, sir,' ses Dan; 'it's only his kind heart that
makes him say that.'

"'It don't matter which is fust,' ses the mate, filling a tablespoon
with it, 'there's plenty for all. Now, Harry.'

"'Take it,' ses the skipper.

"Harry took it, an' the fuss he made you'd ha' thought he was swallering
a football. It stuck all round his mouth, and he carried on so dredful
that the other invalids was half sick afore it came to them.

"By the time the other three 'ad 'ad theirs it was as good as a
pantermime, an' the mate corked the bottle up, and went an' sat down on
a locker while they tried to rinse their mouths out with the luxuries
which had been given 'em.

"'How do you feel?' ses the skipper.

"'I'm dying,' ses Dan.

"'So'm I,' ses Harry; 'I b'leeve the mate's pisoned us."

"The skipper looks over at the mate very stern an' shakes his 'ed
slowly.

"'It's all right,' ses the mate. 'It's always like that the first dozen
or so doses.'

"'Dozen or so doses!' ses old Dan, in a far-away voice.

"'It has to be taken every twenty minutes,' ses the mate, pulling out
his pipe and lighting it; an' the four men groaned all together.

"'I can't allow it,' ses the skipper, 'I can't allow it. Men's lives
mustn't be sacrificed for an experiment.'

"''T ain't a experiment,' ses the mate very indignant, 'it's an old
family medicine.'

"'Well, they shan't have any more,' ses the skipper firmly.

"'Look here,' ses the mate. 'If I kill any one o' these men I'll give
you twenty pound. Honour bright, I will.'

"'Make it twenty-five,' ses the skipper, considering.

"'Very good,' ses the mate. 'Twenty-five; I can't say no fairer than
that, can I? It's about time for another dose now.'

"He gave 'em another tablespoonful all round as the skipper left, an'
the chaps what wasn't invalids nearly bust with joy. He wouldn't let 'em
have anything to take the taste out, 'cos he said it didn't give the
medicine a chance, an' he told us other chaps to remove the temptation,
an' you bet we did.

"After the fifth dose, the invalids began to get desperate, an' when
they heard they'd got to be woke up every twenty minutes through the
night to take the stuff, they sort o' give up. Old Dan said he felt a
gentle glow stealing over him and strengthening him, and Harry said that
it felt like a healing balm to his lungs. All of 'em agreed it was a
wonderful sort o' medicine, an' arter the sixth dose the man with
paralysis dashed up on deck, and ran up the rigging like a cat. He sat
there for hours spitting, an' swore he'd brain anybody who interrupted
him, an' arter a little while Mike Rafferty went up and j'ined him, an'
it the fust mate's ears didn't burn by reason of the things them two
pore sufferers said about 'im, they ought to.

"They was all doing full work next day, an' though, o'course, the
skipper saw how he'd been done, he didn't allude to it. Not in words,
that is; but when a man tries to make four chaps do the work of eight,
an' hits 'em when they don't, it's a easy job to see where the shoe
pinches."




A LOVE PASSAGE


The mate was leaning against the side of the schooner, idly watching a
few red-coated linesmen lounging on the Tower Quay. Careful mariners
were getting out their side-lights, and careless lightermen were
progressing by easy bumps from craft to craft on their way up the river.
A tug, half burying itself in its own swell, rushed panting by, and a
faint scream came from aboard an approaching skiff as it tossed in the
wash.

"JESSICA ahoy!" bawled a voice from the skiff as she came rapidly
alongside.

The mate, roused from his reverie, mechanically caught the line and made
it fast, moving with alacrity as he saw that the captain's daughter was
one of the occupants. Before he had got over his surprise she was on
deck with her boxes, and the captain was paying off the watermen.

"You've seen my daughter Hetty afore, haven't you?" said the skipper.
"She's coming with us this trip. You'd better go down and make up her
bed, Jack, in that spare bunk."

"Ay, ay," said the mate dutifully, moving off.

"Thank you, I'll do it myself," said the scandalised Hetty, stepping
forward hastily.

"As you please," said the skipper, leading the way below. "Let's have a
light on, Jack."

The mate struck a match on his boot, and lit the lamp.

"There's a few things in there'll want moving," said the skipper, as he
opened the door. "I don't know where we're to keep the onions now,
Jack."

"We'll find a place for 'em," said the mate confidently, as he drew out
a sack and placed it on the table.

"I'm not going to sleep in there," said the visitor decidedly, as she
peered in. "Ugh! there's a beetle. Ugh!"

"It's quite dead," said the mate reassuringly. "I've never seen a live
beetle on this ship."

"I want to go home," said the girl. "You've no business to make me come
when I don't want to."

"You should behave yourself then," said her father magisterially. "What
about sheets, Jack; and pillers?"

The mate sat on the table, and, grasping his chin, pondered. Then as his
gaze fell upon the pretty, indignant face of the passenger, he lost the
thread of his ideas.

"She'll have to have some o' my things for the present," said the
skipper.

"Why not," said the mate, looking up again--"why not let her have your
state-room?"

"'Cos I want it myself," replied the other calmly.

The mate blushed for him, and, the girl leaving them to arrange matters
as they pleased, the two men, by borrowing here and contriving there,
made up the bunk. The girl was standing by the galley when they went on
deck again, an object of curious and respectful admiration to the crew,
who had come on board in the meantime. She stayed on deck until the air
began to blow fresher in the wider reaches, and then, with a brief good-
night to her father, retired below.

"She made up her mind to come with us rather suddenly, didn't she?"
inquired the mate after she had gone.

"She didn't make up her mind at all," said the skipper; "we did it for
her, me an' the missus. It's a plan on our part."

"Wants strengthening?" said the mate suggestively.

"Well, the fact is," said the skipper, "it's like this, Jack; there's a
friend o' mine, a provision dealer in a large way o' business, wants to
marry my girl, and me an' the missus want him to marry her, so, o'
course, she wants to marry someone else. Me an' 'er mother we put our
'eads together and decided for her to come away. When she's at 'ome,
instead o' being out with Towson, direckly her mother's back's turned
she's out with that young sprig of a clerk."

"Nice-looking young feller, I s'pose?" said the mate somewhat anxiously.

"Not a bit of it," said the other firmly. "Looks as though he had never
had a good meal in his life. Now my friend Towson, he's all right; he's
a man of about my own figger."

"She'll marry the clerk," said the mate, with conviction.

"I'll bet you she don't," said the skipper. "I'm an artful man, Jack,
an' I, generally speaking, get my own way. I couldn't live with my
missus peaceable if it wasn't for management."

The mate smiled safely in the darkness, the skipper's management
consisting chiefly of slavish obedience.

"I've got a cabinet fortygraph of him for the cabin mantel-piece, Jack,"
continued the wily father. "He gave it to me o' purpose. She'll see that
when she won't see the clerk, an' by-and-bye she'll fall into our way of
thinking. Anyway, she's going to stay here till she does."

"You know your way about, cap'n," said the mate, in pretended
admiration.

The skipper laid his finger on his nose, and winked at the mainmast.
"There's few can show me the way, Jack," he answered softly; "very few.
Now I want you to help me too; I want you to talk to her a great deal."

"Ay, ay," said the mate, winking at the mast in his turn.

"Admire the fortygraph on the mantel-piece," said the skipper.

"I will," said the other.

"Tell her about a lot o' young girls you know as married young middle-
aged men, an' loved 'em more an" more every day of their lives,"
continued the skipper.

"Not another word," said the mate. "I know just what you want. She
shan't marry the clerk if I can help it."

The other turned and gripped him warmly by the hand. "If ever you are a
father your elf, Jack," he said with emotion, "I hope as how somebody'll
stand by you as you're standing by me."

The mate was relieved the next day when he saw the portrait of Towson.
He stroked his moustache, and felt that he gained in good looks every
time he glanced at it.

Breakfast finished, the skipper, who had been on deck all night, retired
to his bunk. The mate went on deck and took charge, watching with great
interest the movements of the passenger as she peered into the galley
and hotly assailed the cook's method of washing up.

"Don't you like the sea?" he inquired politely, as she came and sat on
the cabin skylight.

Miss Alsen shook her head dismally. "I've got to it," she remarked.

"Your father was saying something to me about it," said the mate
guardedly.

"Did he tell the cook and the cabin boy too?" inquired Miss Alsen,
flushing somewhat. "What did he tell you?"

"Told me about a man named Towson," said the mate, becoming intent on
the sails, "and--another fellow."

"I took a little notice of HIM just to spoil the other," said the girl,
"not that I cared for him. I can't understand a girl caring for any man.
Great, clumsy, ugly things."

"You don't like him then?" said the mate.

"Of course not," said the girl, tossing her head.

"And yet they 've sent you to sea to get out of his way," said the mate
meditatively. "Well, the best thing you can do"--His hardihood failed
him at the pitch.

"Go on," said the girl.

"Well, it's this way," said the mate, coughing; "they've sent you to sea
to get you out of this fellow's way, so if you fall in love with
somebody on the ship they'll send you home again."

"So they will," said the girl eagerly. "I'll pretend to fall in love
with that nice-looking sailor you call Harry. What a lark!"

"I shouldn't do that," said the mate gravely.

"Why not?" said the girl.

"'Tisn't discipline," said the mate very firmly; "it wouldn't do at all.
He's before the mast."

"Oh, I see," remarked Miss Alsen, smiling scornfully.

"I only mean pretend, of course," said the mate, colouring. "Just to
oblige you."

"Of course," said the girl calmly. "Well, how are we to be in love?"

The mate flushed darkly. "I don't know much about such things," he said
at length; "but we'll have to look at each other, and all that sort of
thing, you know."

"I don't mind that," said the girl.

"Then we'll get on by degrees," said the other. "I expect we shall both
find it come easier after a time."

"Anything to get home again," said the girl, rising and walking slowly
away.

The mate began his part of the love-making at once, and, fixing a gaze
of concentrated love on the object of his regard, nearly ran down a
smack. As he had prognosticated, it came easy to him, and other well-
marked symptoms, such as loss of appetite and a partiality for bright
colours, developed during the day. Between breakfast and tea he washed
five times, and raised the ire of the skipper to a dangerous pitch by
using the ship's butter to remove tar from his fingers.

By ten o'clock that night he was far advanced in a profound melancholy.
All the looking had been on his side, and, as he stood at the wheel
keeping the schooner to her course, he felt a fellow-feeling for the
hapless Towson, His meditations were interrupted by a slight figure
which emerged from the companion, and, after a moment's hesitation, came
and took its old seat on the skylight.

"Calm and peaceful up here, isn't it?" said he, after waiting some time
for her to speak. "Stars are very bright to-night."

"Don't talk to me," said Miss Alsen snappishly.

"Why doesn't this nasty little ship keep still? I believe it's you
making her jump about like this."

"Me?" said the mate in amazement.

"Yes, with that wheel."

"I can assure you "--began the mate.

"Yes, I knew you'd say so," said the girl.

"Come and steer yourself," said the mate; "then you'll see."

Much to his surprise she came, and, leaning limply against the wheel,
put her little hands on the spokes, while the mate explained the
mysteries of the compass. As he warmed with his subject he ventured to
put his hands on the same spokes, and, gradually becoming more
venturesome, boldly supported her with his arm every time the schooner
gave a lurch.

"Thank you," said Miss Alsen, coldly extricating herself, as the male
fancied another lurch was coming. "Good-night."

She retired to the cabin as a dark figure, which was manfully knuckling
the last remnant of sleep from its eyelids, stood before the mate,
chuckling softly.

"Clear night," said the seaman, as he took the wheel in his great paws.

"Beastly," said the mate absently, and, stifling a sigh, went below and
turned in.

He lay awake for a few minutes, and then, well satisfied with the day's
proceedings, turned over and fell asleep. He was pleased to discover,
when he awoke, that the slight roll of the night before had disappeared,
and that there was hardly any motion on the schooner. The passenger
herself was already at the breakfast-table.

"Cap'n's on deck, I s'pose?" said the mate, preparing to resume
negotiations where they were broken off the night before. "I hope you
feel better than you did last night."

"Yes, thank you," said she.

"You'll make a good sailor in time," said the mate.

"I hope not," said Miss Alsen, who thought it time to quell a gleam of
peculiar tenderness plainly apparent in the mate's eyes. "I shouldn't
like to be a sailor even if I were a man."

"Why not?" inquired the other.

"I don't know," said the girl meditatively; "but sailors are generally
such scrubby little men, aren't they?"

"SCUBBY?" repeated the mate, in a dazed voice.

"I'd sooner be a soldier," she continued; "I like soldiers--they're so
manly. I wish there was one here now."

"What for?" inquired the mate, in the manner of a sulky schoolboy.

"If there was a man like that here now," said Miss Alsen thoughtfully,
"I'd dare him to mustard old Towson's nose."

"Do what?" inquired the astonished mate.

"Mustard old Towson's nose," said Miss Alsen, glancing lightly from the
cruet-stand to the portrait.

The infatuated man hesitated a moment, and then, reaching over to the
cruet, took out the spoon, and with a pale, determined face, indignantly
daubed the classic features of the provision dealer. His indignation was
not lessened by the behaviour of the temptress, who, instead of fawning
upon him for his bravery, crammed her handkerchief to her mouth and
giggled foolishly.

"Where's father," she said suddenly, as a step sounded above. "Oh, you
will get it!"

She rose from her seat, and, standing aside to let her father pass, went
on deck. The skipper sank on to a locker, and, raising the tea-pot,
poured himself out a cup of tea, which he afterwards decanted into a
saucer. He had just raised it to his lips, when he saw something over
the rim of it which made him put it down again untasted, and stare
blankly at the mantel-piece.

"Who the--what the--who the devil's done this?" he inquired in a
strangulated voice, as he rose and regarded the portrait,

"I did," said the mate.

"You did?" roared the other. "You? What for?"

"I don't know," said the mate awkwardly. "Something seemed to come over
me all of a sudden, and I felt as though I MUST do it."

"But what for? Where's the sense of it?" said the skipper.

The mate shook his head sheepishly.

"But what did you want to do such a monkey-trick FOR?" roared the
skipper.

"I don't know," said the mate doggedly; "but it's done, ain't it? and
it's no good talking about it."

The skipper looked at him in wrathful perplexity. "You'd better have
advice when we get to port, Jack," he said at length; "the last few
weeks I've noticed you've been a bit strange in your manner. You go an'
show that 'ed of yours to a doctor."

The mate grunted, and went on deck for sympathy, but, finding Miss Alsen
in a mood far removed from sentiment, and not at all grateful, drew off
whistling. Matters were in this state when the skipper appeared, wiping
his mouth.

"I've put another portrait on the mantel-piece, Jack," he said
menacingly; "it's the only other one I've got, an' I wish you to
understand that if that only smells mustard, there'll be such a row in
this 'ere ship that you won't be able to 'ear yourself speak for the
noise."

He moved off with dignity as his daughter, who had overheard the remark,
came sidling up to the mate and smiled on him agreeably.

"He's put another portrait there," she said softly.

"You'll find the mustard-pot in the cruet," said the mate coldly.

Miss Alsen turned and watched her father as he went forward, and then,
to the mate's surprise, went below without another word. A prey to
curiosity, but too proud to make any overture, he compromised matters by
going and standing near the companion.

"Mate!" said a stealthy whisper at the foot of the ladder.

The mate gazed calmly out to sea.

"Jack!" said the girl again, in a lower whisper than before.

The mate went hot all over, and at once descended. He found Miss Alsen,
her eyes sparkling, with the mustard-pot in her left hand and the spoon
in her right, executing a war-dance in front of the second portrait.

"Don't do it," said the mate, in alarm.

"Why not?" she inquired, going within an inch of it.

"He'll think it's me," said the mate.

"That's why I called you down here," said she; "you don't think I wanted
you, do you?"

"You put that spoon down," said the mate, who was by no means desirous
of another interview with the skipper.

"Shan't!" said Miss Alsen.

The mate sprang at her, but she dodged round the table. He leaned over,
and, catching her by the left arm, drew her towards him; then, with her
flushed, laughing face close to his, he forgot everything else, and
kissed her.

"Oh!" said Hetty indignantly.

"Will you give it to me now?" said the mate, trembling at his boldness.

"Take it," said she. She leaned across the table, and, as the mate
advanced, dabbed viciously at him with the spoon. Then she suddenly
dropped both articles on the table and moved away, as the mate, startled
by a footstep at the door, turned a flushed visage, ornamented with
three streaks of mustard, on to the dumbfounded skipper.

"Sakes alive!" said that astonished mariner, as soon as he could speak;
"if he ain't a-mustarding his own face now--I never 'card of such a thing
in all my life. Don't go near 'im, Hetty. Jack!"

"Well," said the mate, wiping his smarting face with his handkerchief.

"You've never been took like this before?" queried the skipper
anxiously.

"O'course not," said the mortified mate.

"Don't you say o'course not to me," said the other warmly, "after
behaving like this. A straight weskit's what you want. I'll go an' see
old Ben about it. He's got an uncle in a 'sylum. You come up too, my
girl."

He went in search of Ben, oblivious of the fact that his daughter,
instead of following him, came no farther than the door, where she stood
and regarded her victim compassionately.

"I'm so sorry," she said "Does it smart?"

"A little," said the mate; "don't you trouble about me."

"You see what you get for behaving badly," said Miss Alsen judicially.

"It's worth it," said the mate, brightening.

"I'm afraid it'll blister," said she. She crossed over to him, and
putting her head on one side, eyed the traces wisely. "Three marks," she
said.

"I only had one," suggested the mate.

"One what?" enquired Hetty.

"Those," said the mate.

In full view of the horrified skipper, who was cautiously peeping at the
supposed lunatic through the skylight, he kissed her again.

"You can go away, Ben," said the skipper huskily to the expert. "D'ye
hear, you can go AWAY, and not a word about this, mind."

The expert went away grumbling, and the father, after another glance,
which showed him his daughter nestling comfortably on the mate's right
shoulder, stole away and brooded darkly over this crowning complication.
An ordinary man would have run down and interrupted them; the master of
the Jessica thought he could attain his ends more certainly by
diplomacy, and so careful was his demeanour that the couple in the cabin
had no idea that they had been observed--the mate listening calmly to a
lecture on incipient idiocy which the skipper thought it advisable to
bestow.

Until the mid-day meal on the day following he made no sign. If anything
he was even more affable than usual, though his wrath rose at the
glances which were being exchanged across the table.

"By the way, Jack," he said at length, "what's become of Kitty Loney?"

"Who?" inquired the mate. "Who's Kitty Loney?"

It was now the skipper's turn to stare, and he did it admirably.

"Kitty Loney," he said in surprise, "the little girl you are going to
marry."

"Who are you getting at?" said the mate, going scarlet as he met the
gaze opposite.

"I don't know what you mean," said the skipper with dignity. "I'm
allooding to Kitty Loney, the little girl in the red hat and white
feathers you introduced to me as your future."

The mate sank back in his seat, and regarded him with open-mouthed,
horrified astonishment.

"You don't mean to say you've chucked 'er," pursued the heartless
skipper, "after getting an advance from me to buy the ring with, too?
Didn't you buy the ring with the money?"

"No," said the mate, "I--oh, no--of course--what on earth are you
talking about?"

The skipper rose from his seat and regarded him sorrowfully but
severely. "I'm sorry, Jack," he said stiffly, "if I've said anything to
annoy you, or anyway hurt your feelings. O' course it's your business,
not mine. P'raps you'll say you never heard o' Kitty Loney?"

"I do say so," said the bewildered mate; "I do say so."

The skipper eyed him sternly, and without another word left the cabin.
"If she's like her mother," he said to himself, chuckling as he went up
the companion-ladder, "I think that'll do."

There was an awkward pause after his departure. "I'm sure I don't know
what you must think of me," said the mate at length, "but I don't know
what your father's talking about."

"I don't think anything," said Hetty calmly. "Pass the potatoes,
please."

"I suppose it's a joke of his," said the mate, complying.

"And the salt," said she; "thank you."

"But you don't believe it?" said the mate pathetically.

"Oh, don't be silly," said the girl calmly. "What does it matter whether
I do or not?"

"It matters a great deal," said the mate gloomily. "It's life or death
to me."

"Oh, nonsense," said Hetty. "She won't know of your foolishness. I won't
tell her."

"I tell you," said the mate desperately, "there never was a Kitty Loney.
What do you think of that?"

"I think you are very mean," said the girl scornfully; "don't talk to me
any more, please."

"Just as you like," said the mate, beginning to lose his temper.

He pushed his plate from him and departed, while the girl, angry and
resentful, put the potatoes back as being too floury for consumption in
the circumstances.

For the remainder of the passage she treated him with a politeness and
good humour through which he strove in vain to break. To her surprise
her father made no objection, at the end of the voyage, when she
coaxingly suggested going back by train; and the mate, as they sat at
dummy-whist on the evening before her departure, tried in vain to
discuss the journey in an unconcerned fashion.

"It'll be a long journey," said Hetty, who still liked him well enough
to make him smart a bit, "What's trumps?"

"You'll be all right," said her father. "Spades."

He won for the third time that evening, and, feeling wonderfully well
satisfied with the way in which he had played his cards generally, could
not resist another gibe at the crestfallen mate.

"You'll have to give up playing cards and all that sort o' thing when
you're married, Jack," said he.

"Ay, ay," said the mate recklessly, "Kitty don't like cards."

"I thought there was no Kitty," said the girl, looking up, scornfully.

"She don't like cards," repeated the mate. "Lord, what a spree we had.
Cap'n, when we went to the Crystal Palace with her that night."

"Ay, that we did," said the skipper.

"Remember the roundabouts?" said the mate.

"I do," said the skipper merrily. "I'll never forget 'em."

"You and that friend of hers, Bessie Watson, lord how you did go on!"
continued the mate, in a sort of ecstasy. The skipper stiffened suddenly
in his chair. "What on earth are you talking about?" he inquired
gruffly.

"Bessie Watson," said the mate, in tones of innocent surprise. "Little
girl in a blue hat with white feathers, and a blue frock, that came with
us."

"You're drunk," said the skipper, grinding his teeth, as he saw the trap
into which he had walked.

"Don't you remember when you two got lost, an' me and Kitty were looking
all over the place for you?" demanded the mate, still in the same tones
of pleasant reminiscence.

He caught Hetty's eye, and noticed with a thrill that it beamed with
soft and respectful admiration.

"You've been drinking," repeated the skipper, breathing hard. "How dare
you talk like that afore my daughter?"

"It's only right I should know," said Hetty, drawing herself up. "I
wonder what mother'll say to it all?"

"You say anything to your mother if you dare," said the now maddened
skipper. "You know what she is. It's all the mate's nonsense."

"I'm very sorry, cap'n," said the mate, "if I've said anything to annoy
you, or anyway hurt your feelings. O' course it's your business, not
mine. Perhaps you'll say you never heard o' Bessie Watson?"

"Mother shall hear of her," said Hetty, while her helpless sire was
struggling for breath.

"Perhaps you'll tell us who this Bessie Watson is, and where she lives?"
he said at length.

"She lives with Kitty Loney," said the mate simply.

The skipper rose, and his demeanour was so alarming that Hetty shrank
instinctively to the mate for protection. In full view of his captain,
the mate placed his arm about her waist, and in this position they
confronted each other for some time in silence. Then Hetty looked up and
spoke.

"I'm going home by water," she said briefly.




THE CAPTAIN'S EXPLOIT


It was a wet, dreary night in that cheerless part of the great
metropolis known as Wapping. The rain, which had been falling heavily
for hours, still fell steadily on to the sloppy pavements and roads, and
joining forces in the gutter, rushed impetuously to the nearest sewer.
The two or three streets which had wedged themselves in between the
docks and the river, and which, as a matter of fact, really comprise the
beginning and end of Wapping, were deserted, except for a belated van
crashing over the granite roads, or the chance form of a dock-labourer
plodding doggedly along, with head bent in distaste for the rain, and
hands sunk in trouser-pockets.

"Beastly night," said Captain Bing, as he rolled out of the private bar
of the "Sailor's Friend," and, ignoring the presence of the step, took a
little hurried run across the pavement. "Not fit for a dog to be out
in."

He kicked, as he spoke, at a shivering cur which was looking in at the
crack of the bar-door, with a hazy view of calling its attention to the
matter, and then, pulling up the collar of his rough pea-jacket, stepped
boldly out into the rain. Three or four minutes' walk, or rather roll,
brought him to a dark narrow passage, which ran between two houses to
the water-side. By a slight tack to starboard at a critical moment he
struck the channel safely, and followed it until it ended in a flight of
old stone steps, half of which were under water.

"Where for?" inquired a man, starting up from a small penthouse formed
of rough pieces of board.

"Schooner in the tier, Smiling Jane," said the captain gruffly, as he
stumbled clumsily into a boat and sat down in the stern. "Why don't you
have better seats in this 'ere boat?"

"They're there, if you'll look for them," said the waterman; "and you'll
find 'em easier sitting than that bucket."

"Why don't you put 'em where a man can see 'em?" inquired the captain,
raising his voice a little.

The other opened his mouth to reply, but realising that it would lead to
a long and utterly futile argument, contented himself with asking his
fare to trim the boat better; and, pushing off from the steps, pulled
strongly through the dark lumpy water. The tide was strong, so that they
made but slow progress.

"When I was a young man," said the fare with severity, "I'd ha' pulled
this boat across and back afore now."

"When you was a young man," said the man at the oars, who had a local
reputation as a wit, "there wasn't no boats; they was all Noah's arks
then."

"Stow your gab," said the captain, after a pause of deep thought.

The other, whose besetting sin was certainly not loquacity, ejected a
thin stream of tobacco-juice over the side, spat on his hands, and
continued his laborious work until a crowd of dark shapes, surmounted by
a network of rigging, loomed up before them.

"Now, which is your little barge?" he inquired, tugging strongly to
maintain his position against the fast-flowing tide.

"Smiling Jane" said his fare.

"Ah," said the waterman, "Smiling Jane, is it? You sit there, cap'n, an'
I'll row round all their sterns while you strike matches and look at the
names. We'll have quite a nice little evening."

"There she is," cried the captain, who was too muddled to notice the
sarcasm; "there's the little beauty. Steady, my lad."

He reached out his hand as he spoke, and as the boat jarred violently
against a small schooner, seized a rope which hung over the side, and,
swaying to and fro, fumbled in his pocket for the fare.

"Steady, old boy," said the waterman affectionately. He had just
received twopence-halfpenny and a shilling by mistake for threepence.
"Easy up the side. You ain't such a pretty figger as you was when your
old woman made such a bad bargain."

The captain paused in his climb, and poising himself on one foot,
gingerly felt for his tormentor's head with the other Not finding it, he
flung his leg over the bulwark, and gained the deck of the vessel as the
boat swung round with the tide and disappeared in the darkness.

"All turned in," said the captain, gazing owlishly at the deserted deck.
"Well, there's a good hour an' a half afore we start; I'll turn in too."

He walked slowly aft, and sliding back the companion-hatch, descended
into a small evil-smelling cabin, and stood feeling in the darkness for
the matches. They were not to be found, and, growling profanely, he felt
his way to the state-room, and turned in all standing.

It was still dark when he awoke, and hanging over the edge of the bunk,
cautiously felt for the floor with his feet, and having found it, stood
thoughtfully scratching his head, which seemed to have swollen to
abnormal proportions.

"Time they were getting under weigh," he said at length, and groping his
way to the foot of the steps, he opened the door of what looked like a
small pantry, but which was really the mate's boudoir.

"Jem," said the captain gruffly.

There was no reply, and jumping to the conclusion that he was above, the
captain tumbled up the steps and gained the deck, which, as far as he
could see, was in the same deserted condition as when he left it.
Anxious to get some idea of the time, he staggered to the side and
looked over. The tide was almost at the turn, and the steady clank,
clank of neighbouring windlasses showed that other craft were just
getting under weigh. A barge, its red light turning the water to blood,
with a huge wall of dark sail, passed noiselessly by, the indistinct
figure of a man leaning skilfully upon the tiller.

As these various signs of life and activity obtruded themselves upon the
skipper of the Smiling Jane, his wrath rose higher and higher as he
looked around the wet, deserted deck of his own little craft. Then he
walked forward and thrust his head down the forecastle hatchway.

As he expected, there was a complete sleeping chorus below; the deep
satisfied snoring of half-a-dozen seamen, who, regardless of the tide
and their captain's feelings, were slumbering sweetly, in blissful
ignorance of all that the Lancet might say upon the twin subjects of
overcrowding and ventilation.

"Below there, you lazy thieves!" roared the captain; "tumble up, tumble
up!"

The snores stopped. "Ay, ay!" said a sleepy voice. "What's the matter,
master?"

"Matter!" repeated the other, choking violently. "Ain't you going to
sail to-night?"

"To-night!" said another voice, in surprise. "Why, I thought we wasn't
going to sail till Wen'sday."

Not trusting himself to reply, so careful was he of the morals of his
men, the skipper went and leaned over the side and communed with the
silent water. In an incredibly short space of time five or six dusky
figures pattered up on to the deck, and a minute or two later the harsh
clank of the windlass echoed far and wide.

The captain took the wheel. A fat and very sleepy seaman put up the
side-lights, and the little schooner, detaching itself by the aid of
boat-hooks and fenders from the neighbouring craft, moved slowly down
with the tide. The men, in response to the captain's fervent orders,
climbed aloft, and sail after sail was spread to the gentle breeze.

"Hi! you there," cried the captain to one of the men who stood near him,
coiling up some loose line.

"Sir?" said the man.

"Where is the mate?" inquired the captain.

"Man with red whiskers and pimply nose?" said the man interrogatively.

"That's him to a hair," answered the other.

"Ain't seen him since he took me on at eleven," said the man. "How many
new hands are there?"

"I b'leeve we're all fresh," was the reply. "I don't believe some of 'em
have ever smelt salt water afore."

"The mate's been at it again," said the captain warmly, "that's what he
has. He's done it afore and got left behind. Them what can't stand
drink, my man, shouldn't take it, remember that."

"He said we wasn't going to sail till Wen'sday," remarked the man, who
found the captain's attitude rather trying.

"He'll get sacked, that's what he'll get," said the captain warmly. "I
shall report him as soon as I get ashore."

The subject exhausted, the seaman returned to his work, and the captain
continued steering in moody silence.

Slowly, slowly darkness gave way to light. The different portions of the
craft, instead of all being blurred into one, took upon themselves
shape, and stood out wet and distinct in the cold grey of the breaking
day. But the lighter it became, the harder the skipper stared and rubbed
his eyes, and looked from the deck to the flat marshy shore, and from
the shore back to the deck again.

"Here, come here," he cried, beckoning to one of the crew.

"Yessir," said the man, advancing.

"There's something in one of my eyes," faltered the skipper. "I can't
see straight; everything seems mixed up. Now, speaking deliberate and
without any hurry, which side o' the ship do you say the cook's galley's
on?"

"Starboard," said the man promptly, eyeing him with astonishment.

"Starboard," repeated the other softly. "He says starboard, and that's
what it seems to me. My lad, yesterday morning it was on the port side."

The seaman received this astounding communication with calmness, but, as
a slight concession to appearances, said "Lor!"

"And the water-cask," said the skipper; "what colour is it?"

"Green," said the man.

"Not white?" inquired the skipper, leaning heavily upon the wheel.

"Whitish-green," said the man, who always believed in keeping in with
his superior officers.

The captain swore at him.

By this time two or three of the crew who had over-heard part of the
conversation had collected aft, and now stood in a small wondering knot
before their strange captain.

"My lads," said the latter, moistening his dry lips with his tongue, "I
name no names--I don't know 'em yet--and I cast no suspicions, but
somebody has been painting up and altering this 'ere craft, and twisting
things about until a man 'ud hardly know her. Now what's the little
game"

There was no answer, and the captain, who was seeing things clearer and
clearer in the growing light, got paler and paler.

"I must be going crazy," he muttered. "Is this the SMILING JANE, or am I
dreaming?"

"It ain't the SMILING JANE," said one of the seamen; "leastways," he
added cautiously, "it wasn't when I came aboard."

"Not the SMILING JANE!" roared the skipper; "what is it, then?"

"Why, the MARY ANN," chorused the astonished crew.

"My lads," faltered the agonised captain after a long pause. "My lads--"
He stopped and swallowed something in his throat. "I've been and
brought away the wrong ship," he continued with an effort; "that's what
I've done. I must have been bewitched."

"Well, who's having the little game now?" inquired a voice.

"Somebody else'll be sacked as well as the mate," said another.

"We must take her back," said the captain, raising his voice to drown
these mutterings. "Stand by there!"

The bewildered crew went to their posts, the captain gave his orders in
a voice which had never been so subdued and mellow since it broke at the
age of fourteen, and the Mary Ann took in sail, and, dropping her
anchor, waited patiently for the turning of the tide.

                    * * * * * * *

The church bells in Wapping and Rotherhithe were just striking the hour
of mid-day, though they were heard by few above the noisy din of workers
on wharves and ships, as a short stout captain, and a mate with red
whiskers and a pimply nose, stood up in a waterman's boat in the centre
of the river, and gazed at each other in blank astonishment.

"She's gone, clean gone!" murmured the bewildered captain.

"Clean as a whistle," said the mate. "The new hands must ha' run away
with her."

Then the bereaved captain raised his voice, and pronounced a pathetic
and beautiful eulogy upon the departed vessel, somewhat marred by an
appendix in which he consigned the new hands, their heirs, and
descendants, to everlasting perdition.

"Ahoy!" said the waterman, who was getting tired of the business,
addressing a grimy-looking seaman hanging meditatively over the side of
a schooner. "Where's the Mary Ann?"

"Went away at half-past one this morning," was the reply.

"'Cos here's the cap'n an' the mate," said the waterman, indicating the
forlorn couple with a bob of his head.

"My eyes!" said the man, "I s'pose the cook's in charge then. We was to
have gone too, but our old man hasn't turned up."

Quickly the news spread amongst the craft in the tier, and many and
various were the suggestions shouted to the bewildered couple from the
different decks. At last, just as the captain had ordered the waterman
to return to the shore, he was startled by a loud cry from the mate.

"Look there!" he shouted.

The captain looked. Fifty or sixty yards away, a small shamefaced-
looking schooner, so it appeared to his excited imagination, was slowly
approaching them. A minute later a shout went up from the other craft as
she took in sail and bore slowly down upon them. Then a small boat put
off to the buoy, and the Mary Ann was slowly warped into the place she
had left ten hours before.

But while all this was going on, she was boarded by her captain and
mate. They were met by Captain Bing, supported by his mate, who had
hastily pushed off from the Smiling Jane to the assistance of his chief.
In the two leading features before mentioned he was not unlike the mate
of the Mary Ann, and much stress was laid upon this fact by the
unfortunate Bing in his explanation. So much so, in fact, that both the
mates got restless; the skipper, who was a plain man, and given to
calling a spade a spade, using the word "pimply" with what seemed to
them unnecessary iteration.

It is possible that the interview might have lasted for hours had not
Bing suddenly changed his tactics and begun to throw out dark hints
about standing a dinner ashore, and settling it over a friendly glass.
The face of the Mary Ann's captain began to clear, and, as Bing
proceeded from generalities to details, a soft smile played over his
expressive features. It was reflected in the faces of the mates, who by
these means showed clearly that they understood the table was to be laid
for four.

At this happy turn of affairs Bing himself smiled, and a little while
later a ship's boat containing four boon companions put off from the
Mary Ann and made for the shore. Of what afterwards ensued there is no
distinct record, beyond what may be gleaned from the fact that the
quartette turned up at midnight arm-in-arm, and affectionately refused
to be separated--even to enter the ship's boat, which was waiting for
them. The sailors were at first rather nonplussed, but by dint of much
coaxing and argument broke up the party, and rowing them to their
respective vessels, put them carefully to bed.




CONTRABAND OF WAR


A small but strong lamp was burning in the fo'c'sle of the schooner
Greyhound, by the light of which a middle-aged seaman of sedate
appearance sat crocheting an antimacassar. Two other men were snoring
with deep content in their bunks, while a small, bright-eyed boy sat up
in his, reading adventurous fiction.

"Here comes old Dan," said the man with the anti-macassar warningly, as
a pair of sea boots appeared at the top of the companion-ladder; "better
not let him see you with that paper, Billee."

The boy thrust it beneath his blankets, and, lying down, closed his eyes
as the new comer stepped on to the floor.

"All asleep?" inquired the latter.

The other man nodded, and Dan, without any further parley, crossed over
to the sleepers and shook them roughly.

"Eh! wha's matter?" inquired the sleepers plaintively.

"Git up," said Dan impressively, "I want to speak to you. Something
important."

With sundry growls the men complied, and, thrusting their legs out of
their bunks, rolled on to the locker, and sat crossly waiting for
information.

"I want to do a pore chap a good turn," said Dan, watching them narrowly
out of his little black eyes, "an' I want you to help me; an' the boy
too. It's never too young to do good to your fellow-creatures, Billy."

"I know it ain't," said Billy, taking this as permission to join the
group; "I helped a drunken man home once when I was only ten years old,
an' when I was only--"

The speaker stopped, not because he had come to the end of his remarks,
but because one of the seamen had passed his arm around his neck and was
choking him.

"Go on," said the man calmly; "I've got him. Spit it out, Dan, and none
of your sermonising."

"Well, it's like this, Joe," said the old man; "here's a pore chap, a
young sojer from the depot here, an' he's cut an' run. He's been in
hiding in a cottage up the road two days, and he wants to git to London,
and git honest work and employment, not shooting, an' stabbing, an'
bayoneting--"

"Stow it," said Joe impatiently.

"He daren't go to the railway station, and he dursen't go outside in his
uniform," continued Dan. "My 'art bled for the pore young feller, an'
I've promised to give 'im a little trip to London with us. The people
he's staying with won't have him no longer. They've only got one bed,
and directly he sees any sojers coming he goes an' gits into it, whether
he's got his boots on or not."

"Have you told the skipper?" inquired Joe sardonically.

"I won't deceive you, Joe, I 'ave not," replied the old man. "He'll have
to stay down here of a daytime, an' only come on deck of a night when
it's our watch. I told 'im what a lot of good-'arted chaps you was, and
how--"

"How much is he going to give you?" inquired Joe impatiently.

"It's only fit and proper he should pay a little for the passage," said
Dan.

"How MUCH?" demanded Joe, banging the little triangular table with his
fist, and thereby causing the man with the antimacassar to drop a couple
of stitches.

"Twenty-five shillings," said old Dan reluctantly; "an' I'll spend the
odd five shillings on you chaps when we git to Limehouse."

"I don't want your money," said Joe; "there's a empty bunk he can have;
and mind, you take all the responsibility--I won't have nothing to do
with it."

"Thanks, Joe," said the old man, with a sigh of relief; "he's a nice
young chap, you're sure to take to him. I'll go and give him the tip to
come aboard at once."

He ran up on deck again and whistled softly, and a figure, which had
been hiding behind a pile of empties, came out, and, after looking
cautiously around, dropped noiselessly on to the schooner's deck, and
followed its protector below.

"Good evening, mates," said the linesman, gazing curiously and anxiously
round him as he deposited a bundle on the table, and laid his swagger
cane beside it.

"What's your height?" inquired Joe abruptly. "Seven foot?"

"No, only six foot four," said the new arrival, modestly. "I'm not proud
of it. It's much easier for a small man to slip off than a big one."

"It licks me," said Joe thoughtfully, "what they want 'em back for--I
should think they'd be glad to git rid o' such"--he paused a moment
while politeness struggled with feeling, and added, "skunks."

"P'raps I've a reason for being a skunk, p'raps I haven't," retorted
Private Smith, as his face fell.

"This'll be your bunk," interposed Dan hastily; "put your things in
there, and when you are in yourself you'll be as comfortable as a oyster
in its shell."

The visitor complied, and, first extracting from the bundle some tins of
meat and a bottle of whiskey, which he placed upon the table, nervously
requested the honour of the present company to supper. With the
exception of Joe, who churlishly climbed back into his bunk, the men
complied, all agreeing that boys of Billy's age should be reared on
strong teetotal principles.

Supper over, Private Smith and his protectors retired to their couches,
where the former lay in much anxiety until two in the morning, when they
got under way.

"It's all right, my lad," said Dan, after the watch had been set, as he
came and stood by the deserter's bunk; "I 've saved you--I've saved you
for twenty-five shillings."

"I wish it was more," said Private Smith politely.

The old man sighed--and waited.

"I'm quite cleaned out, though," continued the deserter, "except
fi'pence ha'penny. I shall have to risk going home in my uniform as it
is."

"Ah, you'll get there all right," said Dan cheerfully; "and when you
get home no doubt you 've got friends, and if it seems to you as you 'd
like to give a little more to them as assisted you in the hour of need,
you won't be ungrateful, my lad, I know. You ain't the sort."

With these words old Dan, patting him affectionately, retired, and the
soldier lay trying to sleep in his narrow quarters until he was aroused
by a grip on his arm.

"If you want a mouthful of fresh air you 'd better come on deck now,"
said the voice of Joe; "it's my watch. You can get all the sleep you
want in the daytime."

Glad to escape from such stuffy quarters, Private Smith clambered out of
his bunk and followed the other on deck. It was a fine clear night, and
the schooner was going along under a light breeze; the seaman took the
wheel, and, turning to his companion, abruptly inquired what he meant by
deserting and worrying them with six foot four of underdone lobster.

"It's all through my girl," said Private Smith meekly; "first she jilted
me, and made me join the army; now she's chucked the other fellow, and
wrote to me to go back."

"An' now I s'pose the other chap'll take your place in the army," said
Joe. "Why, a gal like that could fill a regiment, if she liked. Pah!
They'll nab you too, in that uniform, and you'll get six months, and
have to finish your time as well."

"It's more than likely," said the soldier gloomily. "I've got to tramp
to Manchester in these clothes, as far as I can see."

"What did you give old Dan all your money for?" inquired Joe.

"I was only thinking of getting away at first," said Smith, "and I had
to take what was offered."

"Well, I'll do what I can for you," said the seaman. "If you're in love,
you ain't responsible for your actions. I remember the first time I got
the chuck. I went into a public-house bar, and smashed all the glass and
bottles I could get at. I felt as though I must do something. If you
were only shorter, I'd lend you some clothes."

"You're a brick," said the soldier gratefully.

"I haven't got any money I could lend you either," said Joe. "I never do
have any, somehow. But clothes you must have."

He fell into deep thought, and cocked his eye aloft as though
contemplating a cutting-out expedition on the sails, while the soldier,
sitting on the side of the ship, waited hopefully for a miracle.

"You'd better get below again," said Joe presently.

"There seems to be somebody moving below; and if the skipper sees you,
you're done. He's a regular Tartar, and he's got a brother what's a
sergeant-major in the army. He'd give you up d'rectly if he spotted
you."

"I'm off," said Smith; and with long, cat-like strides he disappeared
swiftly below.

For two days all went well, and Dan was beginning to congratulate
himself upon his little venture, when his peace of mind was rudely
disturbed. The crew were down below, having their tea, when Billy, who
had been to the galley for hot water, came down, white and scared.

"Look here," he said nervously, "I've not had anything to do with this
chap being aboard, have I?"

"What's the matter?" inquired Dan quickly.

"It's all found out," said Billy.

"WHAT!" cried the crew simultaneously.

"Leastways, it will be," said the youth, correcting himself. "You'd
better chuck him overboard while you've got time. I heard the cap'n tell
the mate as he was coming down in the fo'c'sle to-morrow morning to look
round. He's going to have it painted."

"This," said Dan, in the midst of a painful pause, "this is what comes
of helping a fellow-creature. What's to be done?"

"Tell the skipper the fo'c'sle don't want painting," suggested Billy.

The agonised old seaman, carefully putting down his saucer of tea,
cuffed his head spitefully.

"It's a smooth sea," said he, looking at the perturbed countenance of
Private Smith, "'an there's a lot of shipping about. If I was a
deserter, sooner than be caught, I would slip overboard to-night with a
lifebelt and take my chance."

"I wouldn't," said Mr. Smith, with much decision.

"You wouldn't? Not if you was quite near another ship?" cooed Dan.

"Not if I was near fifty blooming ships, all trying to see which could
pick me up first," replied Mr. Smith, with some heat.

"Then we shall have to leave you to your fate," said Dan solemnly. "If a
man's unreasonable, his best friends can do nothing for him."

"Chuck all his clothes overboard, anyway," said Billy.

"That's a good idea o' the boy's. You leave his ears alone," said Joe,
stopping the ready hand of the exasperated Dan. "He's got more sense
than any of us. Can you think of anything else, Billy? What shall we do
then?"

The eyes of all were turned upon their youthful deliverer, those of Mr.
Smith being painfully prominent. It was a proud moment for Billy, and he
sat silent for some time, with a look of ineffable wisdom and thought
upon his face. At length he spoke.

"Let somebody else have a turn," he said generously.

The voice of the antimacassar worker broke the silence.

"Paint him all over with stripes of different-coloured paint, and let
him pretend he's mad, and didn't know how he got here," he said, with an
uncontrollable ring of pride at the idea, which was very coldly
received, Private Smith being noticeably hard on it.

"I know," said Billy shrilly, clapping his hands. "I've got it, I 've
got it. After he's chucked his clothes overboard to-night, let him go
overboard too, with a line."

"And tow him the rest o' the way, and chuck biscuits to him, I suppose,"
snarled Dan.

"No," said the youthful genius scornfully; "pretend he's been upset from
a boat, and has been swimming about, and we heard him cry out for help
and rescued him."

"It's about the best way out of it," said Joe, after some deliberation;
"it's warm weather, and you won't take no harm, mate. Do it in my watch,
and I'll pull you out directly."

"Wouldn't it do if you just chucked a bucket of water over me and SAID
you'd pulled me out," suggested the victim. "The other thing seems a
downright LIE."

"No," said Billy authoritatively, "you've got to look half-drowned, and
swallow a lot of water, and your eyes be all bloodshot."

Everybody being eager for the adventure, except Private Smith, the
arrangements were at once concluded, and the approach of night
impatiently awaited. It was just before midnight when Smith, who had
forgotten for the time his troubles in sleep, was shaken into
wakefulness.

"Cold water, sir?" said Billy gleefully.

In no mood for frivolity, Private Smith rose and followed the youth on
deck. The air struck him as chill as he stood there; but, for all that,
it was with a sense of relief that he saw Her Majesty's uniform go over
the side and sink into the dark water.

"He don't look much with his padding off, does he?" said Billy, who had
been eyeing him critically.

"You go below," said Dan sharply.

"Garn," said Billy indignantly; "I want to see the fun as well as you
do. I thought of it."

"Fun?" said the old man severely. "Fun? To see a feller creature
suffering, and perhaps drowned--"

"I don't think I had better go," said the victim; "it seems rather
underhand."

"Yes, you will," said Joe. "Wind this line round an' round your arm, and
just swim about gently till I pull you in."

Sorely against his inclination Private Smith took hold of the line, and,
hanging over the side of the schooner, felt the temperature with his
foot, and, slowly and tenderly, with many little gasps, committed his
body to the deep. Joe paid out the line and waited, letting out more
line, when the man in the water, who was getting anxious, started to
come in hand over hand.

"That'll do," said Dan at length.

"I think it will," said Joe, and, putting his hand to his mouth, gave a
mighty shout. It was answered almost directly by startled roars from the
cabin, and the skipper and mate came rushing hastily upon deck, to see
the crew, in their sleeping gear, forming an excited group round Joe,
and peering eagerly over the side.

"What's the matter?" demanded the skipper.

"Somebody in the water, sir," said Joe, relinquishing the wheel to one
of the other seamen, and hauling in the line. "I heard a cry from the
water and threw a line, and, by gum, I've hooked it!"

He hauled in, lustily aided by the skipper, until the long white body of
Private Smith, blanched with the cold, came bumping against the
schooner's side.

"It's a mermaid," said the mate, who was inclined to be superstitious,
as he peered doubtfully down at it. "Let it go, Joe."

"Haul it in, boys," said the skipper impatiently; and two of the men
clambered over the side and, stooping down, raised it from the water.

In the midst of a puddle, which he brought with him, Private Smith was
laid on the deck, and, waving his arms about, fought wildly for his
breath.

"Fetch one of them empties," said the skipper quickly, as he pointed to
some barrels ranged along the side.

The men rolled one over, and then aided the skipper in placing the long
fair form of their visitor across it, and to trundle it lustily up and
down the deck, his legs forming convenient handles for the energetic
operators.

"He's coming round," said the mate, checking them; "he's speaking. How
do you feel, my poor fellow?"

He put his ear down, but the action was unnecessary. Private Smith felt
bad, and, in the plainest English he could think of at the moment, said
so distinctly.

"He's swearing," said the mate. "He ought to be ashamed of himself."

"Yes," said the skipper austerely; "and him so near death too. How did
you get in the water?"

"Went for a--swim," panted Smith surlily.

"SWIM?" echoed the skipper. "Why, we're ten miles from land!"

"His mind's wandering, pore feller," interrupted Joe hurriedly. "What
boat did you fall out of, matey?"

"A row-boat," said Smith, trying to roll out of reach of the skipper,
who was down on his knees flaying him alive with a roller-towel. "I had
to undress in the water to keep afloat. I've lost all my clothes."

"Pore feller," said Dan.

"A gold watch and chain, my purse, and three of the nicest fellers that
ever breathed," continued Smith, who was now entering into the spirit of
the thing.

"Poor chaps," said the skipper solemnly. "Any of 'em leave any family?"

"Four," said Smith sadly.

"Children?" queried the mate.

"Families," said Smith.

"Look here," said the mate, but the watchful Joe interrupted him.

"His mind's wandering," said he hastily. "He can't count, pore chap. We
'd better git him to bed."

"Ah, do," said the skipper, and, assisted by his friends, the rescued
man was half led, half carried below and put between the blankets, where
he lay luxuriously sipping a glass of brandy and water, sent from the
cabin.

"How'd I do it?" he inquired, with a satisfied air.

"There was no need to tell all them lies about it," said Dan sharply;
"instead of one little lie you told half-a-dozen. I don't want nothing
more to do with you. You start afresh now, like a new-born babe."

"All right," said Smith shortly; and, being very much fatigued with his
exertions, and much refreshed by the brandy, fell into a deep and
peaceful sleep.

The morning was well advanced when he awoke, and the fo'c'sle empty
except for the faithful Joe, who was standing by his side, with a heap
of clothing under his arm.

"Try these on," said he, as Smith stared at him half awake; "they'll be
better than nothing, at any rate."

The soldier leaped from his bunk and gratefully proceeded to dress
himself, Joe eyeing him critically as the trousers climbed up his long
legs, and the sleeves of the jacket did their best to conceal his
elbows.

"What do I look like?" he inquired anxiously, as he finished.

"Six foot an' a half o' misery," piped the shrill voice of Billy
promptly, as he thrust his head in at the fo'c'sle. "You can't go to
church in those clothes."

"Well, they'll do for the ship, but you can't go ashore in 'em," said
Joe, as he edged towards the ladder, and suddenly sprang up a step or
two to let fly at the boy, "The old man wants to see you; be careful
what you say to him."

With a very unsuccessful attempt to appear unconscious of the figure he
cut, Smith went up on deck for the interview.

"We can't do anything until we get to London," said the skipper, as he
made copious notes of Smith's adventures. "As soon as we get there, I'll
lend you the money to telegraph to your friends to tell 'em you're safe
and to send you some clothes, and of course you'll have free board and
lodging till it comes, and I'll write out an account of it for the
newspapers."

"You're very good," said Smith blankly.

"And I don't know what you are," said the skipper, interrogatively; "but
you ought to go in for swimming as a profession--six hours' swimming
about like that is wonderful."

"You don't know what you can do till you have to," said Smith modestly,
as he backed slowly away; "but I never want to see the water again as
long as I live."

The two remaining days of their passage passed all too quickly for the
men, who were casting about for some way out of the difficulty which
they foresaw would arise when they reached London.

"If you'd only got decent clothes," said Joe, as they passed Gravesend,
"you could go off and send a telegram, and not come back; but you
couldn't go five yards in them things without having a crowd after you."

"I shall have to be taken I s'pose," said Smith moodily.

"An' poor old Dan'll get six months hard for helping you off," said Joe
sympathetically, as a bright idea occurred to him.

"Rubbish!" said Dan uneasily. "He can stick to his tale of being upset;
anyway, the skipper saw him pulled out of the water. He's too honest a
chap to get an old man into trouble for trying to help him."

"He must have a new rig out, Dan," said Joe softly. "You an' me'll go
an' buy 'em. I'll do the choosing, and you'll do the paying. Why, it'll
be a reg'lar treat for you to lay out a little money, Dan. We'll have
quite an evening's shopping, everything of the best."

The infuriated Dan gasped for breath, and looked helplessly at the
grinning crew.

"I'll see him--overboard first," he said furiously.

"Please yourself," said Joe shortly, "If he's caught you'll get six
months. As it is, you've got a chance of doing a nice, kind little
Christian act, becos, o' course, that twenty-five bob you got out of him
won't anything like pay for his toggery."

Almost beside himself with indignation, the old man moved off, and said
not another word until they were made fast to the wharf at Limehouse. He
did not even break silence when Joe, taking him affectionately by the
arm, led him aft to the skipper.

"Me an' Dan, sir," said Joe very respectfully, "would like to go ashore
for a little shopping. Dan has very kindly offered to lend that pore
chap the money for some clothes, and he wants me to go with him to help
carry them."

"Ay, ay," said the skipper, with a benevolent smile at the aged
philanthropist. "You'd better go at once, afore the shops shut."

"We'll run, sir," said Joe, and taking Dan by the arm, dragged him into
the street at a trot.

Nearly a couple of hours passed before they returned, and no child
watched with greater eagerness the opening of a birthday present than
Smith watched the undoing of the numerous parcels with which they were
laden.

"He's a reg'lar fairy godmother, ain't he?" said Joe, as Smith joyously
dressed himself in a very presentable tweed suit, serviceable boots, and
a bowler hat. "We had a dreadful job to get a suit big enough, an' the
only one we could get was rather more money than we wanted to give,
wasn't it, Dan?"

The fairy godmother strove manfully with his feelings.

"You'll do now," said Joe. "I ain't got much, but what I have you're
welcome to." He put his hand into his pocket and pulled out some loose
coin. "What have you got, mates?"

With decent good will the other men turned out their pockets, and,
adding to the store, heartily pressed it upon the reluctant Smith, who,
after shaking hands gratefully, followed Joe on deck.

"You've got enough to pay your fare," said the latter; "an' I've told
the skipper you are going ashore to send off telegrams. If you send the
money back to Dan, I'll never forgive you."

"I won't, then," said Smith firmly; "but I'll send theirs back to the
other chaps. Good-bye."

Joe shook him by the hand again, and bade him go while the coast was
clear, advice which Smith hastened to follow, though he turned and
looked back to wave his hand to the crew, who had come up on deck
silently to see him off; all but the philanthropist, who was down below
with a stump of lead-pencil and a piece of paper doing sums.




A BLACK AFFAIR


"I didn't want to bring it," said Captain Gubson, regarding somewhat
unfavourably a grey parrot whose cage was hanging against the mainmast,
"but my old uncle was so set on it I had to. He said a sea-voyage would
set its 'elth up."

"It seems to be all right at present," said the mate, who was tenderly
sucking his forefinger; "best of spirits, I should say."

"It's playful," assented the skipper. "The old man thinks a rare lot of
it. I think I shall have a little bit in that quarter, so keep your eye
on the beggar."

"Scratch Poll!" said the parrot, giving its bill a preliminary strop on
its perch. "Scratch poor Polly!"

It bent its head against the bars, and waited patiently to play off what
it had always regarded as the most consummate practical joke in
existence. The first doubt it had ever had about it occurred when the
mate came forward and obligingly scratched it with the stem of his pipe.
It was a wholly unforeseen development, and the parrot, ruffling its
feathers, edged along its perch and brooded darkly at the other end of
it.

Opinion before the mast was also against the new arrival, the general
view being that the wild jealousy which raged in the bosom of the ship's
cat would sooner or later lead to mischief.

"Old Satan don't like it," said the cook, shaking his head. "The blessed
bird hadn't been aboard ten minutes before Satan was prowling around.
The blooming image waited till he was about a foot off the cage, and
then he did the perlite and asked him whether he'd like a glass o' beer.
_I_ never see a cat so took aback in all my life. Never."

"There'll be trouble between 'em," said old Sam, who was the cat's
special protector, "mark my words."

"I'd put my money on the parrot," said one of the men confidently. "It's
'ad a crool bit out of the mate's finger. Where 'ud the cat be agin that
beak?"

"Well, you'd lose your money," said Sam. "If you want to do the cat a
kindness, every time you see him near that cage cuff his 'ed."

The crew being much attached to the cat, which had been presented to
them when a kitten by the mate's wife, acted upon the advice with so
much zest that for the next two days the indignant animal was like to
have been killed with kindness. On the third day, however, the parrot's
cage being on the cabin table, the cat stole furtively down, and, at the
pressing request of the occupant itself, scratched its head for it.

The skipper was the first to discover the mischief, and he came on deck
and published the news in a voice which struck a chill to all hearts.

"Where's that black devil got to?" he yelled.

"Anything wrong, sir?" asked Sam anxiously.

"Come and look here," said the skipper. He led the way to the cabin,
where the mate and one of the crew were already standing, shaking their
heads over the parrot.

"What do you make of that?" demanded the skipper fiercely.

"Too much dry food, sir," said Sam, after due deliberation.

"Too much what?" bellowed the skipper.

"Too much dry food," repeated Sam firmly. "A parrot--a grey parrot--
wants plenty o' sop. If it don't get it, it moults."

"It's had too much CAT" said the skipper fiercely, "and you know it, and
overboard it goes."

"I don't believe it was the cat, sir," interposed the other man; "it's
too soft-hearted to do a thing like that."

"You can shut your jaw," said the skipper, reddening. "Who asked you to
come down here at all?"

"Nobody saw the cat do it," urged the mate.

The skipper said nothing, but, stooping down, picked up a tail feather
from the floor, and laid it on the table. He then went on deck, followed
by the others, and began calling, in seductive tones, for the cat. No
reply forth coming from the sagacious animal, which had gone into
hiding, he turned to Sam, and bade him call it.

"No, sir, I won't 'ave no 'and in it," said the old man. "Putting aside
my liking for the animal, _I'M_ not going to 'ave anything to do with
the killing of a black cat."

"Rubbish!" said the skipper.

"Very good, sir," said Sam, shrugging his shoulders, "you know best, o'
course. You're eddicated and I'm not, an' p'raps you can afford to make
a laugh o' such things. I knew one man who killed a black cat an' he
went mad. There's something very pecooliar about that cat o' ours."

"It knows more than we do," said one of the crew, shaking his head.
"That time you--I mean we--ran the smack down, that cat was expecting of
it 'ours before. It was like a wild thing."

"Look at the weather we've 'ad--look at the trips we've made since he's
been aboard," said the old man. "Tell me it's chance if you like, but I
KNOW better."

The skipper hesitated. He was a superstitious man even for a sailor, and
his weakness was so well known that he had become a sympathetic
receptacle for every ghost story which, by reason of its crudeness or
lack of corroboration, had been rejected by other experts. He was a
perfect reference library for omens, and his interpretations of dreams
had gained for him a widespread reputation.

"That's all nonsense," he said, pausing uneasily; "still, I only want to
be just. There's nothing vindictive about me, and I'll have no hand in
it myself. Joe, just tie a lump of coal to that cat and heave it
overboard."

"Not me," said the cook, following Sam's lead, and working up a shudder.
"Not for fifty pun in gold. I don't want to be haunted."

"The parrot's a little better now, sir," said one of the men, taking
advantage of his hesitation, "he's opened one eye."

"Well, I only want to be just," repeated the skipper. "I won't do
anything in a hurry, but, mark my words, if the parrot dies that cat
goes overboard."

Contrary to expectations, the bird was still alive when London was
reached, though the cook, who from his connection with the cabin had
suddenly reached a position of unusual importance, reported great loss
of strength and irritability of temper. It was still alive, but failing
fast on the day they were to put to sea again; and the fo'c'sle, in
preparation for the worst, stowed their pet away in the paint-locker,
and discussed the situation.

Their council was interrupted by the mysterious behaviour of the cook,
who, having gone out to lay in a stock of bread, suddenly broke in upon
them more in the manner of a member of a secret society than a humble
but useful unit of a ship's company.

"Where's the cap'n?" he asked in a hoarse whisper, as he took a seat on
the locker with the sack of bread between his knees.

"In the cabin," said Sam, regarding his antics with some disfavour.
"What's wrong, cookie?"

"What d' yer think I've got in here?" asked the cook, patting the bag.

The obvious reply to this question was, of course, bread; but as it was
known that the cook had departed specially to buy some, and that he
could hardly ask a question involving such a simple answer, nobody gave
it.

"It come to me all of a sudden," said the cook, in a thrilling whisper.
"I'd just bought the bread and left the shop, when I see a big black
cat, the very image of ours, sitting on a doorstep. I just stooped down
to stroke its 'ed, when it come to me."

"They will sometimes," said one of the seamen.

"I don't mean that," said the cook, with the contempt of genius. "I mean
the idea did. Ses I to myself, 'You might be old Satan's brother by the
look of you; an' if the cap'n wants to kill a cat, let it be you,' I
ses. And with that, before it could say Jack Robinson, I picked it up by
the scruff o' the neck and shoved it in the bag."

"What, all in along of our bread?" said the previous interrupter, in a
pained voice.

"Some of yer are 'ard ter please," said the cook, deeply offended.

"Don't mind him, cook," said the admiring Sam. "You're a masterpiece,
that's what you are."

"Of course, if any of you've got a better plan"--said the cook
generously.

"Don't talk rubbish, cook," said Sam; "fetch the two cats out and put
'em together."

"Don't mix 'em," said the cook warningly; "for you'll never know which
is which agin if you do."

He cautiously opened the top of the sack and produced his captive, and
Satan, having been relieved from his prison, the two animals were
carefully compared.

"They're as like as two lumps o' coal," said Sam slowly. "Lord, what a
joke on the old man. I must tell the mate o' this; he'll enjoy it."

"It'll be all right if the parrot don't die," said the dainty pessimist,
still harping on his pet theme. "All that bread spoilt, and two cats
aboard."

"Don't mind what he ses," said Sam; "you're a brick, that's what you
are. I'll just make a few holes in the lid o' the boy's chest, and pop
old Satan in. You don't mind, do you, Billy?"

"Of course he don't," said the other men indignantly.

Matters being thus agreeably arranged, Sam got a gimlet, and prepared
the chest for the reception of its tenant, who, convinced that he was
being put out of the way to make room for a rival, made a frantic fight
for freedom.

"Now get something 'eavy and put on the top of it," said Sam, having
convinced himself that the lock was broken; "and, Billy, put the noo cat
in the paint-locker till we start; it's home-sick."

The boy obeyed, and the understudy was kept in durance vile until they
were off Limehouse, when he came on deck and nearly ended his career
there and then by attempting to jump over the bulwark into the next
garden. For some time he paced the deck in a perturbed fashion, and
then, leaping on the stern, mewed plaintively as his native city receded
farther and farther from his view.

"What's the matter with old Satan?" said the mate, who had been let into
the secret. "He seems to have something on his mind."

"He'll have something round his neck presently," said the skipper
grimly.

The prophecy was fulfilled some three hours later, when he came up on
deck ruefully regarding the remains of a bird whose vocabulary had once
been the pride of its native town. He threw it overboard without a word,
and then, seizing the innocent cat, who had followed him under the
impression that it was about to lunch, produced half a brick attached to
a string, and tied it round his neck. The crew, who were enjoying the
joke immensely, raised a howl of protest.

"The Skylark'll never have another like it, sir," said Sam solemnly.
"That cat was the luck of the ship."

"I don't want any of your old woman's yarns," said the skipper brutally.
"If you want the cat, go and fetch it."

He stepped aft as he spoke, and sent the gentle stranger hurtling
through the air. There was a "plomp" as it reached the water, a bubble
or two came to the surface, and all was over.

"That's the last o' that," he said, turning away.

The old man shook his head. "You can't kill a black cat for nothing,"
said he, "mark my words!"

The skipper, who was in a temper at the time, thought little of them,
but they recurred to him vividly the next day. The wind had freshened
during the night, and rain was falling heavily. On deck the crew stood
about in oilskins, while below, the boy, in his new capacity of gaoler,
was ministering to the wants of an ungrateful prisoner, when the cook,
happening to glance that way, was horrified to see the animal emerge
from the fo'c'sle. It eluded easily the frantic clutch of the boy as he
sprang up the ladder after it, and walked leisurely along the deck in
the direction of the cabin. Just as the crew had given it up for lost it
encountered Sam, and the next moment, despite its cries, was caught up
and huddled away beneath his stiff clammy oilskins. At the noise the
skipper, who was talking to the mate, turned as though he had been shot,
and gazed wildly round him.

"Dick," said he, "can you hear a cat?"

"Cat!" said the mate, in accents of great astonishment.

"I thought I heard it," said the puzzled skipper.

"Fancy, sir," said Dick firmly, as a mewing, appalling in its wrath,
came from beneath Sam's coat.

"Did you hear it, Sam?" called the skipper, as the old man was moving
off.

"Hear what, sir?" inquired Sam respectfully, without turning round.

"Nothing," said the skipper, collecting himself. "Nothing. All right."

The old man, hardly able to believe in his good fortune, made his way
forward, and, seizing a favourable opportunity, handed his ungrateful
burden back to the boy.

"Fancy you heard a cat just now?" inquired the mate casually.

"Well, between you an' me, Dick," said the skipper, in a mysterious
voice, "I did, and it wasn't fancy neither. I heard that cat as plain as
if it was alive."

"Well, I've heard of such things," said the other, "but I don't believe
'em. What a lark if the old cat comes back climbing up over the side out
of the sea to-night, with the brick hanging round its neck."

The skipper stared at him for some time without speaking. "If that's
your idea of a lark," he said at length, in a voice which betrayed
traces of some emotion, "it ain't mine."

"Well, if you hear it again," said the mate cordially, "you might let me
know. I'm rather interested in such things."

The skipper, hearing no more of it that day, tried hard to persuade
himself that he was the victim of imagination, but, in spite of this, he
was pleased at night, as he stood at the wheel, to reflect on the sense
of companionship afforded by the look-out in the bows. On his part the
look-out was quite charmed with the unwonted affability of the skipper,
as he yelled out to him two or three times on matters only faintly
connected with the progress of the schooner.

The night, which had been dirty, cleared somewhat, and the bright
crescent of the moon appeared above a heavy bank of clouds, as the cat,
which had by dint of using its back as a lever at length got free from
that cursed chest, licked its shapely limbs, and came up on deck. After
its stifling prison, the air was simply delicious.

"Bob!" yelled the skipper suddenly.

"Ay, ay, sir!" said the look-out, in a startled voice.

"Did you mew?" inquired the skipper.

"Did I WOT, sir?" cried the astonished Bob.

"Mew," said the skipper sharply, "like a cat?"

"No, sir," said the offended seaman. "What 'ud I want to do that for?"

"I don't know what you want to for," said the skipper, looking round him
uneasily. "There's some more rain coming, Bob."

"Ay, ay, sir," said Bob.

"Lot o' rain we've had this summer," said the skipper, in a meditative
bawl.

"Ay, ay, sir," said Bob. "Sailing-ship on the port bow, sir."

The conversation dropped, the skipper, anxious to divert his thoughts,
watching the dark mass of sail as it came plunging out of the darkness
into the moonlight until it was abreast of his own craft. His eyes
followed it as it passed his quarter, so that he saw not the stealthy
approach of the cat which came from behind the companion, and sat down
close by him. For over thirty hours the animal had been subjected to the
grossest indignities at the hands of every man on board the ship except
one. That one was the skipper, and there is no doubt but that its
subsequent behaviour was a direct recognition of that fact. It rose to
its feet, and crossing over to the unconscious skipper, rubbed its head
affectionately and vigorously against his leg.

From simple causes great events do spring. The skipper sprang four
yards, and let off a screech which was the subject of much comment on
the barque which had just passed. When Bob, who came shuffling up at the
double, reached him he was leaning against the side, incapable of
speech, and shaking all over.

"Anything wrong, sir?" inquired the seaman anxiously, as he ran to the
wheel.

The skipper pulled himself together a bit, and got closer to his
companion.

"Believe me or not, Bob," he said at length, in trembling accents, "just
as you please, but the ghost of that--cat, I mean the ghost of that poor
affectionate animal which I drowned, and which I wish I hadn't, came and
rubbed itself up against my leg."

"Which leg?" inquired Bob, who was ever careful about details.

"What the blazes does it matter which leg?" demanded the skipper, whose
nerves were in a terrible state. "Ah, look--look there!"

The seaman followed his outstretched finger, and his heart failed him as
he saw the cat, with its back arched, gingerly picking its way along the
side of the vessel.

"I can't see nothing," he said doggedly.

"I don't suppose you can, Bob," said the skipper in a melancholy voice,
as the cat vanished in the bows; "it's evidently only meant for me to
see. What it means I don't know. I'm going down to turn in. I ain't fit
for duty. You don't mind being left alone till the mate comes up, do
you?"

"I ain't afraid," said Bob.

His superior officer disappeared below, and, shaking the sleepy mate,
who protested strongly against the proceedings, narrated in trembling
tones his horrible experiences.

"If I were you "--said the mate.

"Yes?" said the skipper, waiting a bit. Then he shook him again,
roughly.

"What were you going to say?" he inquired.

"Say?" said the mate, rubbing his eyes. "Nothing."

"About the cat?" suggested the skipper.

"Cat?" said the mate, nestling lovingly down in the blankets again.
"Wha' ca'--goo' ni'"--

Then the skipper drew the blankets from the mate's sleepy clutches, and,
rolling him backwards and forwards in the bunk, patiently explained to
him that he was very unwell, that he was going to have a drop of whiskey
neat, and turn in, and that he, the mate, was to take the watch. From
this moment the joke lost much of its savour for the mate.

"You can have a nip too, Dick," said the skipper, proffering him the
whiskey, as the other sullenly dressed himself.

"It's all rot," said the mate, tossing the spirits down his throat, "and
it's no use either; you can't run away from a ghost; it's just as likely
to be in your bed as anywhere else. Good-night."

He left the skipper pondering over his last words, and dubiously eyeing
the piece of furniture in question. Nor did he retire until he had
subjected it to an analysis of the most searching description, and then,
leaving the lamp burning, he sprang hastily in, and forgot his troubles
in sleep.

It was day when he awoke, and went on deck to find a heavy sea running,
and just sufficient sail set to keep the schooner's head before the wind
as she bobbed about on the waters. An exclamation from the skipper, as a
wave broke against the side and flung a cloud of spray over him, brought
the mate's head round.

"Why, you ain't going to get up?" he said, in tones of insincere
surprise.

"Why not?" inquired the other gruffly.

"You go and lay down agin," said the mate, "and have a cup o' nice hot
tea an' some toast."

"Clear out," said the skipper, making a dash for the wheel, and reaching
it as the wet deck suddenly changed its angle. "I know you didn't like
being woke up, Dick; but I got the horrors last night. Go below and turn
in."

"All right," said the mollified mate.

"You didn't see anything?" inquired the skipper, as he took the wheel
from him.

"Nothing at all," said the other.

The skipper shook his head thoughtfully, then shook it again vigorously,
as another shower-bath put its head over the side and saluted him.

"I wish I hadn't drowned that cat, Dick," he said.

"You won't see it again," said Dick, with the confidence of a man who
had taken every possible precaution to render the prophecy a safe one.

He went below, leaving the skipper at the wheel idly watching the cook
as he performed marvellous feats of jugglery, between the galley and the
fo'c'sle, with the men's breakfast.

A little while later, leaving the wheel to Sam, he went below himself
and had his own, talking freely, to the discomfort of the conscious-
stricken cook, about his weird experiences of the night before.

"You won't see it no more, sir, I don't expect," he said faintly; "I
b'leeve it come and rubbed itself up agin your leg to show it forgave
you."

"Well, I hope it knows it's understood," said the other. "I don't want
it to take any more trouble."

He finished the breakfast in silence, and then went on deck again. It
was still blowing hard, and he went over to superintend the men who were
attempting to lash together some empties which were rolling about in all
directions amidships. A violent roll set them free again, and at the
same time separated two chests in the fo'c'sle, which were standing one
on top of the other. This enabled Satan, who was crouching in the lower
one, half crazed with terror, to come flying madly up on deck and give
his feelings full vent. Three times in full view of the horrified
skipper he circled the deck at racing speed, and had just started on the
fourth when a heavy packing-case, which had been temporarily set on end
and abandoned by the men at his sudden appearance, fell over and caught
him by the tail. Sam rushed to the rescue.

"Stop!" yelled the skipper.

"Won't I put it up, sir?" inquired Sam.

"Do you see what's beneath it?" said the skipper, in a husky voice.

"Beneath it, sir?" said Sam, whose ideas were in a whirl.

"The cat, can't you see the cat?" said the skipper, whose eyes had been
riveted on the animal since its first appearance on deck.

Sam hesitated a moment, and then shook his head.

"The case has fallen on the cat," said the skipper. "I can see it
distinctly."

He might have said heard it, too, for Satan was making frenzied appeals
to his sympathetic friends for assistance.

"Let me put the case back, sir," said one of the men, "then p'raps the
vision 'll disappear."

"No, stop where you are," said the skipper. "I can stand it better by
daylight. It's the most wonderful and extraordinary thing I've ever
seen. Do you mean to say you can't see anything, Sam?"

"I can see a case, sir," said Sam, speaking slowly and carefully," with
a bit of rusty iron band sticking out from it. That's what you're
mistaking for the cat, p'raps, sir."

"Can't you see anything, cook?" demanded the skipper.

"It may be fancy, sir," faltered the cook, lowering his eyes, "but it
does seem to me as though I can see a little misty sort o' thing there.
Ah, now it's gone."

"No, it ain't," said the skipper. "The ghost of Satan's sitting there.
The case seems to have fallen on its tail. It appears to be howling
something dreadful."

The men made a desperate effort to display the astonishment suitable to
such a marvel, whilst Satan, who was trying all he knew to get his tail
out, cursed freely. How long the superstitious captain of the Skylark
would have let him remain there will never be known, for just then the
mate came on deck and caught sight of it before he was quite aware of
the part he was expected to play.

"Why the devil don't you lift the thing off the poor brute," he yelled,
hurrying up towards the case.

"What, can YOU see it, Dick?" said the skipper impressively, laying his
hand on his arm.

"SEE it?" retorted the mate. "D'ye think I'm blind. Listen to the poor
brute. I should--Oh!"

He became conscious of the concentrated significant gaze of the crew.
Five pairs of eyes speaking as one, all saying "idiot" plainly, the
boy's eyes conveying an expression too great to be translated.

Turning, the skipper saw the bye-play, and a light slowly dawned upon
him. But he wanted more, and he wheeled suddenly to the cook for the
required illumination.

The cook said it was a lark. Then he corrected himself and said it
wasn't a lark, then he corrected himself again and became incoherent.
Meantime the skipper eyed him stonily, while the mate released the cat
and good-naturedly helped to straighten its tail.

It took fully five minutes of unwilling explanation before the skipper
could grasp the situation. He did not appear to fairly understand it
until he was shown the chest with the ventilated lid; then his
countenance cleared, and, taking the unhappy Billy by the collar, he
called sternly for a piece of rope.

By this statesmanlike handling of the subject a question of much
delicacy and difficulty was solved, discipline was preserved, and a
practical illustration of the perils of deceit afforded to a youngster
who was at an age best suited to receive such impressions. That he
should exhaust the resources of a youthful but powerful vocabulary upon
the crew in general, and Sam in particular, was only to be expected.
They bore him no malice for it, but, when he showed signs of going
beyond his years, held a hasty consultation, and then stopped his mouth
with sixpence-halfpenny and a broken jack-knife.




THE SKIPPER OF THE "OSPREY"


It was a quarter to six in the morning as the mate of the sailing-barge
Osprey came on deck and looked round for the master, who had been
sleeping ashore and was somewhat overdue. Ten minutes passed before he
appeared on the wharf, and the mate saw with surprise that he was
leaning on the arm of a pretty girl of twenty, as he hobbled painfully
down to the barge.

"Here you are then," said the mate, his face clearing. "I began to think
you weren't coming."

"I'm not," said the skipper; "I've got the gout crool bad. My darter
here's going to take my place, an' I'm going to take it easy in bed for
a bit."

"I'll go an' make it for you," said the mate.

"I mean my bed at home," said the skipper sharply. "I want good nursing
an' attention."

The mate looked puzzled.

"But you don't really mean to say this young lady is coming aboard
instead of you?" he said.

"That's just what I do mean," said the skipper. "She knows as much about
it as I do. She lived aboard with me until she was quite a big girl.
You'll take your orders from her. What are you whistling about? Can't I
do as I like about my own ship?"

"O' course you can," said the mate drily; "an' I s'pose I can whistle if
I like--I never heard no orders against it."

"Gimme a kiss, Meg, an' git aboard," said the skipper, leaning on his
stick and turning his cheek to his daughter, who obediently gave him a
perfunctory kiss on the left eyebrow, and sprang lightly aboard the
barge.

"Cast off," said she, in a business-like manner, as she seized a boat-
hook and pushed off from the jetty. "Ta ta, Dad, and go straight home,
mind; the cab's waiting."

"Ay, ay, my dear," said the proud father, his eye moistening with
paternal pride as his daughter, throwing off her jacket, ran and
assisted the mate with the sail. "Lord, what a fine boy she would have
made!"

He watched the barge until she was well under way, and then, waving his
hand to his daughter, crawled slowly back to the cab; and, being to a
certain extent a believer in homeopathy, treated his complaint with a
glass of rum.

"I'm sorry your father's so bad, miss," said the mate, who was still
somewhat dazed by the recent proceedings, as the girl came up and took
the wheel from him. "He was complaining a goodish bit all the way up."

"A wilful man must have his way," said Miss Cringle, with a shake of her
head. "It's no good me saying anything, because directly my back's
turned he has his own way again."

The mate shook his head despondently.

"You'd better get your bedding up and make your arrangements forward,"
said the new skipper presently. There was a look of indulgent admiration
in the mate's eye, and she thought it necessary to check it.

"All right," said the other, "plenty of time for that; the river's a
little bit thick just now."

"What do you mean?" inquired the girl hastily.

"Some o' these things are not so careful as they might be," said the
mate, noting the ominous sparkle of her eye, "an' they might scrape the
paint off."

"Look here, my lad," said the new skipper grimly, "if you think you can
steer better than me, you'd better keep it to yourself, that's all. Now
suppose you see about your bedding, as I said."

The mate went, albeit he was rather surprised at himself for doing so,
and hid his annoyance and confusion beneath the mattress which he
brought up on his head. His job completed, he came aft again, and,
sitting on the hatches, lit his pipe.

"This is just the weather for a pleasant cruise," he said amiably, after
a few whiffs. "You've chose a nice time for it."

"I don't mind the weather," said the girl, who fancied that there was a
little latent sarcasm somewhere. "I think you'd better wash the decks
now."

"Washed 'em last night," said the mate, without moving.

"Ah, after dark, perhaps," said the girl. "Well, I think I'll have them
done again."

The mate sat pondering rebelliously for a few minutes, then he removed
his jacket, put on in honour of the new skipper, and, fetching the
bucket and mop, silently obeyed orders.

"You seem to be very fond of sitting down," remarked the girl, after he
had finished; "can't you find something else to do?"

"I don't know," replied the mate slowly; "I thought you were looking
after that."

The girl bit her lip, and was looking carefully round her, when they
were both disturbed by the unseemly behaviour of the master of a passing
craft.

"Jack!" he yelled in a tone of strong amazement, "Jack!"

"Halloa!" cried the mate.

"Why didn't you tell us?" yelled the other reproachfully.

"Tell you what?" roared the mystified mate.

The master of the other craft, holding on to the stays with one hand,
jerked his thumb expressively towards Miss Cringle, and waited.

"When was it?" he screamed anxiously, as he realised that his craft was
rapidly carrying him out of earshot.

The mate smiled feebly, and glanced uneasily at the girl, who, with a
fine colour and an air of vast unconcern, was looking straight in front
of her; and it was a relief to both of them when they found themselves
hesitating and dodging in front of a schooner which was coming up.

"Do you want all the river?" demanded the exasperated master of the
latter vessel, running to the side as they passed. "Why don't you drop
anchor if you want to spoon?"

"Perhaps you 'd better let me take the wheel a bit," said the mate, not
without a little malice in his voice.

"No; you can go an' keep a look-out in the bows," said the girl
serenely. "It'll prevent misunderstandings, too. Better take the
potatoes with you and peel them for dinner."

The mate complied, and the voyage proceeded in silence, the steering
being rendered a little nicer than usual by various nautical sparks
bringing their boats a bit closer than was necessary in order to obtain
a good view of the fair steersman.

After dinner, the tide having turned and a stiff head-wind blowing, they
brought up off Sheppey. It began to rain hard, and the crew of the
Osprey, having made all snug above, retired to the cabin to resume their
quarrel.

"Don't mind me," said Miss Cringle scathingly, as the mate lit his pipe.

"Well, I didn't think you minded," replied the mate; "the old man"--

"Who?" interrupted Miss Cringle, in a tone of polite inquiry.

"Captain Cringle," said the mate, correcting himself, "smokes a great
deal, and I've heard him say that you liked the smell of it,"

"There's pipes and pipes," said Miss Cringle oracularly.

The mate flung his on the floor and crunched it beneath his heel, then
he thrust his hands in his pockets, and, leaning back, scowled darkly up
at the rain as it crackled on the skylight.

"If you are going to show off your nasty temper," said the girl
severely, "you'd better go forward. It's not quite the thing after all
for you to be down here--not that I study appearances much."

"I shouldn't think you did," retorted the mate, whose temper was rapidly
getting the better of him. "I can't think what your father was thinking
of to let a pret--to let a girl like you come away like this."

"If you were going to say pretty girl," said Miss Cringle, with calm
self-abnegation, "don't mind me, say it. The captain knows what he's
about. He told me you were a milksop; he said you were a good young man
and a teetotaller."

The mate, allowing the truth of the captain's statement as to his
abstinence, hotly denied the charge of goodness. "I can understand your
father's hurry to get rid of you for a spell," he concluded, being
goaded beyond all consideration of politeness. "His gout 'ud never get
well while you were with him. More than that, I shouldn't wonder if you
were the cause of it."

With this parting shot he departed, before the girl could think of a
suitable reply, and went and sulked in the dingy little fo'c'sle.

In the evening, the weather having moderated somewhat, and the tide
being on the ebb, they got under way again, the girl coming on deck
fully attired in an oilskin coat and sou'-wester to resume the command.
The rain fell steadily as they ploughed along their way, guided by the
bright eye of the "Mouse" as it shone across the darkening waters. The
mate, soaked to the skin, was at the wheel.

"Why don't you go below and put your oilskins on?" inquired the girl,
when this fact dawned upon her.

"Don't want 'em," said the mate.

"I suppose you know best," said the girl, and said no more until nine
o'clock, when she paused at the companion to give her last orders for
the night.

"I'm going to turn in," said she; "call me at two o'clock. Good-night."

"Good-night," said the other, and the girl vanished.

Left to himself, the mate, who began to feel chilly, felt in his pockets
for a pipe, and was in all the stress of getting a light, when he heard
a thin, almost mild voice behind him, and, looking round, saw the face
of the girl at the companion.

"I say, are these your oilskins I've been wearing?" she demanded
awkwardly.

"You're quite welcome," said the mate.

"Why didn't you tell me?" said the girl indignantly. "I wouldn't have
worn them for anything if I had known it."

"Well, they won't poison you," said the mate resentfully. "Your father
left his at Ipswich to have 'em cobbled up a bit."

The girl passed them up on the deck, and, closing the companion with a
bang, disappeared. It is possible that the fatigues of the day had been
too much for her, for when she awoke, and consulted the little silver
watch that hung by her bunk, it was past five o'clock, and the red glow
of the sun was flooding the cabin as she arose and hastily dressed.

The deck was drying in white patches as she went above, and the mate was
sitting yawning at the wheel, his eyelids red for want of sleep.

"Didn't I tell you to call me at two o'clock?" she demanded, confronting
him.

"It's all right," said the mate. "I thought when you woke would be soon
enough. You looked tired."

"I think you'd better go when we get to Ipswich," said the girl,
tightening her lips. "I'll ship somebody who'll obey orders."

"I'll go when we get back to London," said the mate. "I'll hand this
barge over to the cap'n, and nobody else."

"Well, we'll see," said the girl, as she took the wheel, "_I_ think
you'll go at Ipswich."

For the remainder of the voyage the subject was not alluded to; the
mate, in a spirit of sulky pride, kept to the fore part of the boat,
except when he was steering, and, as far as practicable, the girl
ignored his presence. In this spirit of mutual forbearance they entered
the Orwell, and ran swiftly up to Ipswich.

It was late in the afternoon when they arrived there, and the new
skipper, waiting only until they were made fast, went ashore, leaving
the mate in charge. She had been gone about an hour when a small
telegraph boy appeared, and, after boarding the barge in the unsafest
manner possible, handed him a telegram. The mate read it and his face
flushed. With even more than the curtness customary in language at a
halfpenny a word, it contained his dismissal.

"I've had a telegram from your father sacking me," he said to the girl,
as she returned soon after, laden with small parcels.

"Yes, I wired him to," she replied calmly. "I suppose you'll go NOW?"

"I'd rather go back to London with you," he said slowly.

"I daresay," said the girl. "As a matter of fact I wasn't really meaning
for you to go, but when you said you wouldn't I thought we'd see who was
master. I've shipped another mate, so you see I haven't lost much time."

"Who is he," inquired the mate.

"Man named Charlie Lee," replied the girl; "the foreman here told me of
him."

"He'd no business too," said the mate, frowning; "he's a loose fish;
take my advice now and ship somebody else. He's not at all the sort of
chap I'd choose for you to sail with."

"You'd choose," said the girl scornfully; "dear me, what a pity you
didn't tell me before."

"He's a public-house loafer," said the mate, meeting her eye angrily,
"and about as bad as they make 'em; but I s'pose you'll have your own
way."

"He won't frighten me," said the girl. "I'm quite capable of taking care
of myself, thank you. Good evening."

The mate stepped ashore with a small bundle, leaving the remainder of
his possessions to go back to London with the barge. The girl watched
his well-knit figure as it strode up the quay until it was out of sight,
and then, inwardly piqued because he had not turned round for a parting
glance, gave a little sigh, and went below to tea.

The docile and respectful behaviour of the new-comer was a pleasant
change to the autocrat of the Osprey, and cargoes were worked out and in
without an unpleasant word. They laid at the quay for two days, the new
mate, whose home was at Ipswich, sleeping ashore, and on the morning of
the third he turned up punctually at six o'clock, and they started on
their return voyage.

"Well, you do know how to handle a craft," said Lee admiringly, as they
passed down the river. "The old boat seems to know it's got a pretty
young lady in charge."

"Don't talk rubbish," said the girl austerely.

The new mate carefully adjusted his red necktie and smiled indulgently.

"Well, you're the prettiest cap'n I've ever sailed under," he said.
"What do they call that red cap you've got on? Tam-o'-Shanter is it?"

"I don't know," said the girl shortly.

"You mean you won't tell me," said the other, with a look of anger in
his soft dark eyes.

"Just as you like," said she, and Lee, whistling softly, turned on his
heel and began to busy himself with some small matter forward.

The rest of the day passed quietly, though there was a freedom in the
new mate's manner which made the redoubtable skipper of the Osprey
regret her change of crew, and to treat him with more civility than her
proud spirit quite approved of. There was but little wind, and the barge
merely crawled along as the captain and mate, with surreptitious
glances, took each other's measure.

"This is the nicest trip I've ever had," said Lee, as he came up from an
unduly prolonged tea, with a strong-smelling cigar in his mouth. "I've
brought your jacket up."

"I don't want it, thank you," said the girl.

"Better have it," said Lee, holding it up for her.

"When I want my jacket I'll put it on myself," said the girl.

"All right, no offence," said the other airily. "What an obstinate
little devil you are."

"Have you got any drink down there?" inquired the girl, eyeing him
sternly.

"Just a little drop o' whiskey, my dear, for the spasms," said Lee
facetiously. "Will you have a drop?"

"I won't have any drinking here," said she sharply. "If you want to
drink, wait till you get ashore."

"YOU won't have any drinking!" said the other, opening his eyes, and
with a quiet chuckle he dived below and brought up a bottle and a glass.
"Here's wishing a better temper to you, my dear," he said amiably, as he
tossed off a glass. "Come, you'd better have a drop. It'll put a little
colour in your cheeks."

"Put it away now, there's a good fellow," said the captain timidly, as
she looked anxiously at the nearest sail, some two miles distant.

"It's the only friend I've got," said Lee, sprawling gracefully on the
hatches, and replenishing his glass. "Look here. Are you on for a
bargain?"

"What do you mean?" inquired the girl.

"Give me a kiss, little spitfire, and I won't take another drop to-
night," said the new mate tenderly. "Come, I won't tell."

"You may drink yourself to death before I'll do that," said the girl,
striving to speak calmly. "Don't talk that nonsense to me again."

She stooped over as she spoke and made a sudden grab at the bottle, but
the new mate was too quick for her, and, snatching it up jeeringly,
dared her to come for it.

"Come on, come and fight for it," said he; "hit me if you like, I don't
mind; your little fist won't hurt."

No answer being vouchsafed to this invitation he applied himself to his
only friend again, while the girl, now thoroughly frightened, steered in
silence.

"Better get the sidelights out," said she at length.

"Plenty o' time," said Lee.

"Take the helm, then, while I do it," said the girl, biting her lips.

The fellow rose and came towards her, and, as she made way for him,
threw his arm round her waist and tried to detain her. Her heart beating
quickly, she walked forward, and, not without a hesitating glance at the
drunken figure at the wheel, descended into the fo'c'sle for the lamps.

The next moment, with a gasping little cry, she sank down on a locker as
the dark figure of a man rose and stood by her.

"Don't be frightened," it said quietly.

"Jack?" said the girl.

"That's me," said the figure. "You didn't expect to see me, did you? I
thought perhaps you didn't know what was good for you, so I stowed
myself away last night, and here I am."

"Have you heard what that fellow has been saying to me?" demanded Miss
Cringle, with a spice of the old temper leavening her voice once more.

"Every word," said the mate cheerfully.

"Why didn't you come up and stand by me?" inquired the girl hotly.

The mate hung his head.

"Oh," said the girl, and her tones were those of acute disappointment,
"you're afraid."

"I'm not," said the mate scornfully.

"Why didn't you come up, then, instead of skulking down here?" inquired
the girl.

"The mate scratched the back of his neck and smiled, but weakly. "Well,
I--I thought"--he began, and stopped.

"You thought"--prompted Miss Cringle coldly.

"I thought a little fright would do you good," said the mate, speaking
quickly, "and that it would make you appreciate me a little more when I
did come."

"Ahoy! MAGGIE! MAGGIE!" came the voice of the graceless varlet who was
steering.

"I'll MAGGIE him," said the mate, grinding his teeth, "Why, what the--
why you 're crying."

"I'm not," sobbed Miss Cringle scornfully. "I'm in a temper, that's
all."

"I'll knock his head off," said the mate; "you stay down here."

"Mag-GIE!" came the voice again, "MAG--HULLO!"

"Were you calling me, my lad?" said the mate, with dangerous politeness,
as he stepped aft. "Ain't you afraid of straining that sweet voice o'
yours? Leave go o' that tiller."

The other let go, and the mate's fist took him heavily in the face and
sent him sprawling on the deck. He rose with a scream of rage and rushed
at his opponent, but the mate's temper, which had suffered badly through
his treatment of the last few days, was up, and he sent him heavily down
again.

"There's a little dark dingy hole forward," said the mate, after waiting
some time for him to rise again, "just the place for you to go and think
over your sins in. If I see you come out of it until we get to London,
I'll hurt you. Now clear."

The other cleared, and, carefully avoiding the girl, who was standing
close by, disappeared below.

"You've hurt him," said the girl, coming up to the mate and laying her
hand on his arm. "What a horrid temper you've got."

"It was him asking you to kiss him that upset me," said the mate
apologetically.

"He put his arm round my waist," said Miss Cringle, blushing.

"WHAT!" said the mate, stuttering, "put his--put his arm--round--your
waist--like"--

His courage suddenly forsook him.

"Like what?" inquired the girl, with superb innocence.

"Like THAT," said the mate manfully.

"That'll do," said Miss Cringle softly, "that'll do. You're as bad as he
is, only the worst of it is there is nobody here to prevent you."




IN BORROWED PLUMES


The master of the Sarah Jane had been missing for two days, and all on
board, with the exception of the boy, whom nobody troubled about, were
full of joy at the circumstance. Twice before had the skipper, whose
habits might, perhaps, be best described as irregular, missed his ship,
and word had gone forth that the third time would be the last. His berth
was a good one, and the mate wanted it in place of his own, which was
wanted by Ted Jones, A. B.

"Two hours more," said the mate anxiously to the men, as they stood
leaning against the side, "and I take the ship out."

"Under two hours'll do it," said Ted, peering over the side and watching
the water as it slowly rose over the mud. "What's got the old man, I
wonder?"

"I don't know, and I don't care," said the mate. "You chaps stand by me
and it'll be good for all of us. Mr. Pearson said distinct the last time
that if the skipper ever missed his ship again it would be his last trip
in her, and he told me afore the old man that I wasn't to wait two
minutes at any time, but to bring her out right away."

"He's an old fool," said Bill Loch, the other hand; "and nobody'll miss
him but the boy, and he's been looking reg'lar worried all the morning.
He looked so worried at dinner time that I give 'im a kick to cheer him
up a bit. Look at him now."

The mate gave a supercilious glance in the direction of the boy, and
then turned away. The boy, who had no idea of courting observation,
stowed himself away behind the windlass; and, taking a letter from his
pocket, perused it for the fourth time.

"Dear Tommy," it began. "I take my pen in and to inform you that I'm
stayin here and cant get away for the reason that I lorst my cloes at
cribage larst night, also my money, and everything beside. Dont speek to
a living sole about it as the mate wants my birth, but pack up sum cloes
and bring them to me without saying nuthing to noboddy. The mates cloths
will do becos I havent got enny other soot, dont tell 'im. You needen't
trouble about soks as I've got them left. My bed is so bad I must now
conclude. Your affecshunate uncle and captin Joe Bross. P.S. Dont let
the mate see you come, or else he wont let you go."

"Two hours more," sighed Tommy, as he put the letter back in his pocket.
"How can I get any clothes when they're all locked up? And aunt said I
was to look after 'im and see he didn't get into no mischief."

He sat thinking deeply, and then, as the crew of the Sarah Jane stepped
ashore to take advantage of a glass offered by the mate, he crept down
to the cabin again for another desperate look round. The only articles
of clothing visible belonged to Mrs. Bross, who up to this trip had been
sailing in the schooner to look after its master. At these he gazed
hard.

"I'll take 'em and try an' swop 'em for some men's clothes," said he
suddenly, snatching the garments from the pegs. "She wouldn't mind"; and
hastily rolling them into a parcel, together with a pair of carpet
slippers of the captain's, he thrust the lot into an old biscuit bag.
Then he shouldered his burden, and, going cautiously on deck, gained the
shore, and set off at a trot to the address furnished in the letter.

It was a long way, and the bag was heavy. His first attempt at barter
was alarming, for the pawnbroker, who had just been cautioned by the
police, was in such a severe and uncomfortable state of morals, that the
boy quickly snatched up his bundle again and left. Sorely troubled he
walked hastily along, until, in a small bye street, his glance fell upon
a baker of mild and benevolent aspect, standing behind the counter of
his shop.

"If you please, sir," said Tommy, entering, and depositing his bag on
the counter, "have you got any cast-off clothes you don't want?"

The baker turned to a shelf, and selecting a stale loaf cut it in
halves, one of which he placed before the boy.

"I don't want bread," said Tommy desperately; "but mother has just died,
and father wants mourning for the funeral. He's only got a new suit with
him, and if he can change these things of mother's for an old suit, he'd
sell his best ones to bury her with."

He shook the articles out on the counter, and the baker's wife, who had
just come into the shop, inspected them rather favourably.

"Poor boy, so you've lost your mother," she said, turning the clothes
over. "It's a good skirt, Bill."

"Yes, ma'am," said Tommy dolefully.

"What did she die of?" inquired the baker.

"Scarlet fever," said Tommy, tearfully, mentioning the only disease he
knew.

"Scar--Take them things away," yelled the baker, pushing the clothes on
to the floor, and following his wife to the other end of the shop. "Take
'em away directly, you young villain."

His voice was so loud, his manner so imperative, that the startled boy,
without stopping to argue, stuffed the clothes pell-mell into the bag
again and departed. A farewell glance at the clock made him look almost
as horrified as the baker.

"There's no time to be lost," he muttered, as he began to run; "either
the old man'll have to come in these or else stay where he is."

He reached the house breathless, and paused before an unshaven man in
time-worn greasy clothes, who was smoking a short clay pipe with much
enjoyment in front of the door.

"Is Cap'n Bross here?" he panted.

"He's upstai