truthful narrative passing all
bounds of decorum.

Their incredulity was a source of great grief to him. He had pictured
himself posing as a daredevil, and he went about his duties with a
chastened mien, mistaken by the men, experts in such matters, for the
reaction after a drinking bout.

They passed Northfleet on their way up to Rotherhithe, where they went
to discharge a small general cargo, the cook's behavior every time a
police-boat passed them coming in for much scornful censure. It was some
hours before he would go ashore, and when at last he did venture, it was
with the reckless air of a Robert Macaire and a Dick Turpin rolled into
one.

It was a damp, cheerless morning when they got to Northfleet again. It
had been raining heavily in the night, and black clouds still hung low
over the river. They were not to load until the next day, and after
dinner Henry and the mate exchanged a sympathetic smile as the skipper
took up his cap and went ashore.

He walked into Gravesend, and taking no notice of the rain, which was
falling steadily, strolled idly about looking into the shop windows.
He had a romantic idea that he might meet Annis Gething there. It was
half-holiday at the school, and it was the most natural thing in the
world that she should be sauntering about Gravesend in the pouring rain.
At about four o'clock, being fairly wet through, he saw the fallacy of
the idea strongly, and in a disconsolate fashion, after one glass at a
convenient tavern, turned to go back to the ship. A little way along the
road he stepped aside to allow a girl to pass, glancing--by mere force
of habit--beneath her umbrella as he did so. Then he started back
guiltily as his eyes met those of Miss Gething. She half stopped.

"Good-afternoon," said the skipper awkwardly.

"Good-afternoon," said she.

"Nasty weather," said the skipper, standing respectfully three yards
off.

"Wretched," said Miss Gething. "Ugh!"

"I don't mind it much myself," said the skipper.

"You must be very wet," said Miss Gething. "You are going to see mother,
I suppose?"

"I did think of doing so," said the skipper with joyous untruthfulness.

"I'm going to do a little shopping," said she. "Good-bye."

She nodded brightly, and the skipper, raising his cap, turned on his
heel and set off to pay the call. He turned his head several times as
he went, but Miss Gething, who knew more of men than the skipper knew of
women, did not turn hers.

A quar