t in company with his own reason,
shamed his manhood thereby, an' fetched his soul into jeopardy. They
called un Hard Harry, true enough; but 'twas not because his
disposition was harsh--'twas because he was a hard driver at sea an'
put the craft he was master of to as much labor as she could bear at
all times. Knowin' the breed o' the man as well as I knowed it, I
could tell that he was troubled, whether by wrath or grief, there was
no knowin' which, an' would explode one way or t'other afore long. He
must on deck for a fresh breath o' the wet night, says he, or smother;
an' he would presently drop below again, says he, in command of his
temper an' restlessness. I seed, too, that the lad wished t'
follow--he watched the skipper up the ladder, like a doubtful dog, an'
got up an' wagged hisself; but he thought better o' the intrusion an'
set sail on another vast whopper in praise o' the father whose story
we knowed.

When Skipper Harry come below again, he clapped a hand on Anthony
Lot's shoulder in a way that jarred the man.

"Time you was stowed away in bed," says he.

Anthony took the hint. "I was jus' 'lowin' t' go ashore," says he.
"You comin' along, Sammy?"

"I don't know," says Sammy. "I isn't quite tired of it here as yet."

"Well, now, I calls that complimentary!" says the skipper; "an' I'm
inclined to indulge you. What say, Tumm? Mm-m? What say t' this here
young gentleman?"

"I'm fond o' company," says I, "if 'tis genteel."

"Come, now, be candid!" says the skipper. "Is you suited with the
company you is offered?"

"'Tis genteel enough for me."

"Aw, you is jus' pokin' fun at me," says the lad. "I don't like it."

"I is not neither!" says I.

"I--I wish I could stay, sir," says Sammy t' the skipper. "Jus',
sir--jus' for a little small while. I--I----"

'Twas a plea. Skipper Harry cocked his ear in wonder. It seemed t' me
that the lad had a purpose in mind.

"Well?" says the skipper.

The lad begun t' pant with a question, an' then, in a fright, t' lick
his lips.

"Well, sir," says he, "I wants t' ask--I--I jus' got the notion
t'----"

"Anthony," says the skipper, "your punt is frayin' the painter with
eagerness t' be off t' bed."

With that Anthony went ashore.

"Now, son," says the skipper, "they're havin' a wonderful mug-up in
the forecastle. You go for'ard an' have a cup o' tea. 'Tis a cup o'
tea that you wants, not the company o' me an' Mister Tumm, an' I knows
it. You have a litt