cross the sea, and in the little harbour the dusky shapes of a few
small craft lay motionless on the dark water.

The master of the schooner _Harebell_ came slowly towards the harbour,
accompanied by his mate. Both men had provided ashore for a voyage
which included no intoxicants, and the dignity of the skipper, always a
salient feature, had developed tremendously under the influence of brown
stout. He stepped aboard his schooner importantly, and then, turning
to the mate, who was about to follow, suddenly held up his hand for
silence.

"What did I tell you?" he inquired severely as the mate got quietly
aboard.

"About knocking down the two policemen?" guessed the mate, somewhat
puzzled.

"No," said the other shortly. "Listen."

The mate listened. From the fo'c's'le came the low, gruff voices of men,
broken by the silvery ripple of women's laughter.

"Well, I'm a Dutchman," said the mate with the air of one who felt he
was expected to say something.

"After all I said to 'em," said the skipper with weary dignity. "You
'eard what I said to 'em, Jack?"

"Nobody could ha' swore louder," testified the mate.

"An' here they are," said the skipper in amaze, "defying of me. After
all I said to 'em. After all the threats I--I employed."

"Employed," repeated the mate with relish.

"They've been and gone and asked them females down the fo'c's'le again.
You know what I said I'd do, Jack, if they did."

"Said you'd eat 'em without salt," quoted the other helpfully.

"I'll do worse than that, Jack," said the skipper after a moment's
discomfiture. "What's to hinder us casting off quietly and taking them
along with us?"

"If you ask me," said the mate, "I should say you couldn't please the
crew better."

"Well, we'll see," said the other, nodding sagely; "don't make no noise,
Jack."

He set an example of silence himself, and aided by the mate, cast off
the warps which held his unconscious visitors to their native town, and
the wind being off the shore, the little schooner drifted silently away
from the quay. The skipper went to the wheel, and the noise of the mate
hauling on the jib brought a rough head out of the fo'c's'le, the owner
of which, after a cry to his mates below, sprang up on deck and looked
round in bewilderment.

"Stand by, there!" cried the skipper as the others came rushing on deck,
"Shake 'em out."

"Beggin' your pardin', sir," said one of them with more politeness in
his tones than he had