ubbing a bump on his bald head.

For an instant Cap'n Sproul was moved by a wild impulse to let her
slat her way to complete destruction, but the sailorman's instinct
triumphed, and he worked her round, chewing a strand of his beard
with venom.

"I don't pretend to know as much about ship managin' as you do," Hiram
ventured to say at last, "but if that wa'n't a careless performance,
lettin' her wale round that way, then I'm no judge."

He got no comment from the Cap'n.

"I don't suppose it's shipshape to cut ropes instead of untie 'em,"
pursued Hiram, struggling with lame apology in behalf of the others,
"but I could see for myself that if them sails stayed up we were goin'
to tip over. It's better to sail a little slower and keep right side
up."

He knotted a big handkerchief around his head and took his place on
the grating once more.

"What can we do now?" bawled Murray.

"You're the one that's issuin' orders 'board here now," growled the
Cap'n, bending baleful gaze on the foreman of the Ancients. "Go
for'ard and tell 'em to chop down both masts, and then bore some holes
in the bottom to let out the bilge-water. Then they can set her on
fire. There might be something them blasted Ancients could do to a
vessel on fire."

"I don't believe in bein' sarcastic when people are tryin' to do the
best they can," objected Hiram. He noted that the _Dobson_ was once
again setting straight out to sea. She was butting her snub nose
furiously into swelling combers. The slaty bench of clouds had lifted
into the zenith. Scud trailed just over the swaying masts. The shore
line was lost in haze. "Don't be stuffy any longer, Cap'n," he pleaded.
"We've gone fur enough. I give up. You are deep-water, all right!"

Cap'n Sproul made no reply. Suddenly catching a moment that seemed
favorable, he lashed the wheel, and with mighty puffing and grunting
"inched" in the main-sheet. "She ought to have a double reef," he
muttered. "But them petrified sons of secos couldn't take in a week's
wash."

"You can see for yourself that the boys are seasick," resumed Hiram,
when the Cap'n took the wheel again. "If you don't turn 'round--"

"Mr. Look," grated the skipper, "I've got just a word or two to say
right now." His sturdy legs were straddled, his brown hands clutched
the spokes of the weather-worn wheel. "I'm runnin' this packet from
now on, and it's without conversation. Understand? Don't you open
your yap. And you go for'ard and tell