ailor
dreads more than a derelict, and he makes it his business to sink it
promptly whenever he can."

"Couldn't he tow it into port?" asked Dan, with interest.

"Not worth the trouble," was the grim answer.

"Jing!" said Dan. "I'd try it, sure."

"Would you?" asked Mr. Wirt.

"Yes," replied Dan, decidedly. "If a ship can float, it must be worth
something. I'd try to fling a hawser about it somewhere, and haul it in
and dry-dock it to find out what was wrong. I've seen an oyster boat, that
was leaking at every seam, calked and patched and painted to be good as
new."

"Perhaps," said Mr. Wirt, with a short laugh; "but the oyster boats don't
go very far a-sea, and derelicts drift beyond hope or help. I am that
kind, and if--if" (the speaker hesitated for a moment),--"if I had a boy
like you, I wouldn't take any chances with him: I'd keep him off my deck;
I'd put him on a sound ship with a wise captain and a steady crew, and he
should be under orders until--well, until he had learned to sail midnight
seas like this by the light of the stars." And, tossing his half-smoked
cigar into the water, Mr. Wirt turned abruptly away without any further
"goodnight."

"He's a queer one," said Dan to himself, as he stared after the tall
figure disappearing in the darkness. "I don't know what he means by his
drifting and derelicts, but I guess it's a sort of talk about breaking
laws and rules like I am doing here to-night. Gee! but Brother Bart is an
old granny; stirring up all this fuss about nothing; and I'll be dead
sick, I know. But I'm under orders" (Dan stretched his arms over his head,
and, drawing a long, reluctant sigh, took a last look at the stars), "and
I guess I'll have to go."

And he went, making his way with some difficulty over the swaying decks
and down deep stairs where the footing was more perilous than the heights
of Old Top; through long stretches of gorgeous saloons whence all the life
and gayety had departed; for, despite the stars, the sea was rough
to-night, and old Neptune under a friendly smile was doing his worst.

Jim and Dud, sturdy fellows that they were, had somewhat recovered their
equilibrium and were dozing fitfully; but little Freddy was still white
and wretched; and poor Brother Bart, all the ruddy glow gone from his
face, lay with his hands clasping his Rosary, very sick indeed.

"Say your prayers as well as ye can, laddie," he moaned to that small
sufferer. "The Lord be merciful to us b