Haven't seen it or any other skiff. What's the matter? Has it
been stolen?"

"That'll do, thank you. Good-night," came the reply, without an answer
to this last question, and then the stranger passed out of hearing down
the river.

CHAPTER XV.

"CAP'N COD," SABELLA, AND THE _WHATNOT_.

In order to explain the presence beside that tow-head of the queer
craft on board which Winn had found shelter, and of its several
occupants, who were making such kindly efforts to relieve his distress,
it is necessary to take a twenty-year glance backward. At that time
Aleck Fifield, a Yankee jack-of-all-trades, who had been by turns a
school-teacher, sailor, mechanic, boat-builder, and several other
things as well, found himself employed as stage-carpenter in a Boston
theatre. He had always been possessed of artistic tastes, though they
had never carried him beyond sign-painting, and of dramatic longings,
which had thus far been satisfied with a diligent reading of
Shakespeare and attending the theatre at every opportunity. Now, being
regularly connected with the stage, both these tastes expanded, until
through one of them he blossomed into a very passable scene-painter.
Through the other he overwhelmed himself with despair, and convulsed an
audience with laughter, by appearing once, and once only, as Captain
Thomas Codringhampton in the popular sea drama of "Blue Billows." His
failure as an actor was so dismal and complete as to be notorious.
Unkind comparisons of other bad acting with that of Cap'n Cod became
stock jokes in every theatre of the country. From that day the stage
name clung to him; and though it galled at first, the passage of time
soothed the wound, until finally Aleck Fifield became proud of the
name. As he grew older, it represented to him the fame for which he
had longed when young. When the war broke out and he became one of the
bravest defenders of the Union, he was everywhere known as "Cap'n Cod."
After the war, in which he managed to lose a leg, he went to Iowa to
live with his only relative, a widowed niece, who had but one child, a
little girl.

Between this child, Sabella, and the white-haired veteran, who could
tell more tales than a fairy-book, and construct more toys than Santa
Claus ever dreamed of, there sprang up an affection that could not have
been stronger had they been father and daughter. On one side it was
based upon boundless love and admiration, and on the other upon
admi