way. "My name," said he, shortly,
"is Archibald Armstrong."

The skipper instantly touched his cap.

"I'm sorry, skipper," Archie went on, with a dignity of which his
manner of life had long ago made him unconsciously master, "for having
taken too much for granted. I want passage with you to Ruddy Cove,
skipper, for which I'll pay."

"You're welcome, sir," said the skipper.

The _Wind and Tide_ lay at Hook-and-Line that night in fear of the sea
that was running. She rode so deep in the water, and her planks and
rigging and sticks were at best so untrustworthy, that her skipper
would not take her to sea. Next morning, however--and Archie
subsequently recalled it--next morning the wind blew fair for the
southern ports. Out put the old craft into a rising breeze and was
presently wallowing her way towards Green Bay and Ruddy Cove. But
there was no reckless sailing. Nothing that Archie could say with any
appearance of propriety moved the skipper to urge her on. She was
deep, she was old; she must be humoured along. Again, when night fell,
she was taken into harbour for shelter. The wind still blew fair in
the morning; she made a better day of it, but was once more safely
berthed for the night. Day after day she crept down the coast,
lurching along in the light, with unearthly shrieks of pain and
complaint, and lying silent in harbour in the dark.

"'Wisht she'd 'urry up,'" thought Archie, with a dubious laugh,
remembering Bagg.

It was the twenty-ninth of August and coming on dark when the boy
first caught sight of the cottages of Ruddy Cove.

"Mail-boat day," he thought, jubilantly. "The _Wind and Tide_ will
make it. I'll be in St. John's the day after to-morrow."

"Journey's end," said the skipper, coming up at that moment.

"I'm wanting to make the mail-boat," said Archie. "She's due at Ruddy
Cove soon after dark."

"She'll be on time," said the skipper. "Hark!"

Archie heard the faint blast of a steamer's whistle.

"Is it she?" asked the skipper.

"Ay," Archie exclaimed; "and she's just leaving Fortune Harbour.
She'll be at Ruddy Cove within the hour."

"I'm doubtin' that _we_ will," said the skipper.

"Will you not run up a topsail?" the boy pleaded.

"Not for the queen o' England," the skipper replied, moving forward.
"I've got my load--an' I've got the lives o' my crew--t' care for."

Archie could not gainsay it. The _Wind and Tide_ had all the sail she
could carry with unquestionable safety. T