"You mean you've thrown it away, you infernal rascal!" bellowed the
skipper.

"No, sir," said Joe.

"Ah! I s'pose it walked up on deck and jumped overboard," said the mate.

"No, sir," said Joe softly. "The dog ate it, sir."

The skipper swung round in his seat and regarded him open-mouthed.

"The--dog--ate--it?" he repeated.

"Yes, sir; Clark saw 'im do it--didn't you, Clark?"

"I did," said Clark promptly. He had made his position doubly sure by
throwing it overboard himself.

"It comes to the same thing, sir," said Joe sanctimoniously; "my
innercence is proved just the same. You'll find the dog won't take no
'urt through it, sir. You watch 'im."

The skipper breathed hard, but made no reply.

"If you don't believe me, sir, p'r'aps you'd like to see the plate where
'e licked it?" said Joe. "Give me the plate, Sam."

He turned to take it, but in place of handing it to him that useful
witness dropped it and made hurriedly for the companion-ladder, and by
strenuous efforts reached the deck before Joe, although that veracious
gentleman, assisted from below by strong and willing arms, made a good
second.

TWO OF A TRADE

"'E's a nero, that's wot 'e is, sir," said the cook, as he emptied a
boiler of dirty water overboard.

"A what?" said the skipper.

"A nero," said the cook, speaking very slowly and distinctly. "A nero
in real life, a chap wot, speaking for all for'ard, we're proud to have
aboard along with us."

"I didn't know he was much of a swimmer," said the skipper, glancing
curiously at a clumsily built man of middle age, who sat on the hatch
glancing despondently at the side.

"No more 'e ain't," said the cook, "an' that's what makes 'im more
'eroish still in my own opinion."

"Did he take his clothes off?" inquired the mate.

"Not a bit of it," said the delighted cook; "not a pair of trowsis, nor
even 'is 'at, which was sunk."

"You're a liar, cook," said the hero, looking up for a moment.

"You didn't take your trowsis off, George?" said the cook anxiously.

"I chucked my 'at on the pavement," growled George, without looking up.

"Well, anyway, you went over the embankment after that pore girl like a
Briton, didn't you?" said the other.

There was no reply.

"Didn't you?" said the cook appealingly.

"Did you expect me to go over like a Dutchman, or wot?" demanded George
fiercely.

"That's 'is modesty," said the cook, turning to the others with the air
of a showman. "'E ca