to
the clustered cabins. At their own door Cormick plucked the skipper's
sleeve.

"They was talkin' o' witches," he whispered. "Dick Lynch an' some more
o' the lads. They says as how the comather was put on to ye this very
mornin', Denny."

The skipper paused with his hand on the latch and eyed the other
sharply.

"Witches, ye say? An' Dick Lynch was talkin', was he? Who did they
figger as put the spell on to me?"

"The lass ye saved from the fore-top. Sure, that's what they all bes
sayin', Denny. Mermaid, they calls her--an' some a fairy. A witch,
anyhow. They says as how yer luck bes turned now--aye, the luck o' the
entire harbor. 'Twas herself--the spell o' her--kilt the t'ree lads in
the cabin, they be sayin'. Their talk was desperate black, Denny."

"'Twas the poor dead, drownded woman, an' their own cowardly souls, kilt
'em!"

"Aye, Denny, so it was, nary a doubt; but they shot ye some desperate
black looks, Denny."

"Well, Cormy, don't ye be worryin'. Fifty t'ousand squid like Dick Lynch
couldn't frighten me. The comather, ye say? Saints o' God! but I'll be
puttin' it on themselves wid a club! Bewitched? What the divil do they
know o' witches? Fishes bes all they understands! Black looks they give
me, did they? I'll be batin' 'em so black they'll all look like rotted
herrings, by the Holy Peter hisself! Aye, Cormy, don't ye worry, now."

At that he opened the door quietly and stepped inside with a strange air
of reverence and eagerness. The boy followed softly and closed the door
behind him. The fire roared and crackled in the round stove, but the
room was empty of human life. Wet garments of fine linen hung on a line
behind the stove. The inner door opened and old Mother Nolan hobbled
into the kitchen with a wrinkled finger to her lips.

"Whist wid ye!" she cautioned. "She be sleepin' like a babe, the poor
darlint, in Father McQueen's own bed, wid everything snug an' warm as
ye'd find in any marchant's grand house in St. John's."

She took her accustomed seat beside the stove and lit her pipe.

"Saints alive! but can't ye set down!" she exclaimed. "I wants to talk
wid ye, b'ys. Tell me this--where bes t'e rest o' the poor folk from the
wrack?"

"She bes the only livin' soul we found, Granny," replied the skipper.
"She was lashed in the foremast--an' t'other spars was all over the
side. We found a poor dead body in one o' the cabins--drownded to
death--an' not so much as another corpse. Aye, Gran