stern towards the water, and her stem slightly
raised above it. Under her bows lay all the material for use the next
day. The spare pieces of timber that were to be put under her, and the
wedges which were to be driven in to raise her forward, were ready to
hand, as were the jacks and levers. Everything, in fact, down to the
long-handled mauls was in its place.

Gabriel followed at Tom's heels all day. He wanted to take in everything
clearly, and succeeded fully in so doing. Only one thing, the ship's
name, that he was so anxious to know, still remained a secret, which Tom
would not betray. And Tom himself it was who, in accordance with the
Consul's orders, had spiked on the name-board when it was nearly dark.

The company at Anders Begmand's had been busy that evening, especially
Tom Robson, and by the time it was about ten o'clock he was pretty well
tipsy. Woodlouse was no better; but Torpander kept as sober as usual,
looking towards the door every time he heard a noise. With the darkness
a fresh breeze began to blow up from the south-west, which swept over
the open ground above Sandsgaard and down on to the fjord. It made the
old cottage shake again when the wind came back in eddies from the hill
behind it, and Torpander got up every moment, thinking that the door was
opening, to the endless amusement of Mr. Robson.

Martin drank in silence, and looked even more gloomy than usual. The
whole winter he had been out of work. Tom Robson had lent him money, and
that made him even more morose, for he was proud after his own fashion,
and gratitude was not in his nature.

At last Marianne came. Torpander greeted her in his usual respectful
manner, to which she answered with a faint smile. She looked almost
ready to fall from weariness, as she passed hurriedly through the room.
"Hulloa!" cried Tom, who only saw her when she had reached the kitchen
door, "here comes my sweetheart! Marianne, my darling! the ship is ready
now, and Tom Robson has got some money. Let's have the wedding;
to-night, if you like! Come along!" cried he, struggling to get over the
bench.

Martin thrust him back. "Will you let my sister alone?"

"I suppose she is not good enough for an honest seaman, because of that
infernal young Gar----"

He did not get any farther, for Martin aimed a blow at him and struck
him behind the ear. Marianne hastily left the room. Torpander now threw
himself courageously on his ancient enemy from the other side, and a