om the northeast, came
occasional light puffs of wind.

Captain Dabney, pacing his familiar poop with firm, sure steps, turned
his sightless face constantly to those puffs. There was upon the ship
an air of expectancy. And that afternoon Martin beheld an exhibition
of the old man's sea-canniness; he suddenly stopped his steady pacing,
stood motionless a moment, sniffing of the air astern, and then wheeled
upon Ruth.

"To the braces, mister! Here she comes!" he snapped.

She came with tentative, caressing puffs at first, each one a little
stronger than the last. Then, with a sigh, a dark blue ripple dancing
before her, she arrived, enveloped and passed them.

The brig trembled to the embrace and careened gently, as if nestling
into a beloved's arms. About the decks were smiling faces and joyous
shouts, and the sails were trimmed with a swinging chantey. For the
_Cohasset_ had picked up the northeast trades.

That night the wind blew, and the next day, and the next, and the next
week, and the weeks following. Ever strong and fresh, out of the
northeast, came the mighty trade-wind. Nine knots, ten knots, eleven
knots--the brig foamed before it, into the southwest, edging eleven
knots--the brig foamed before it, into the southwest, edging away
always to the westward.

Every sail was spread. Sails were even improvised to supplement the
vast press the ship carried, a balloon jib for the bows, and a
triangular piece of canvas that the boatswain labored over, and which
he spread above the square topsails on the main. He was mightily proud
of his handicraft, and walked about, rubbing his huge hands and gazing
up at the little sail.

"An inwention o' my own," he proudly confided to Martin. "Swiggle me
stiff, if the _Flyin' Cloud_ 'as anything on us, for we've rigged a
bloody moons'il, says I."

Day by day the air grew warmer, as they neared the tropics. One day
they sighted a school of skimming flying fish; that night several flew
on board and were delivered into Charley Bo Yip's ready hands, and
Martin feasted for the first time upon that dainty morsel. Bonito and
porpoise played about the bows.

Martin could not at first understand how a ship that was bound for a
distant corner of the cold Bering Sea came to be sailing into the
tropics. But the boatswain enlightened him.

"It's a case o' the longest way being the shortest, lad. The winds,
says I. We 'ave to make a 'alf circle to the south, using t