ut the deck, fore an'
aft, waitin' turns t' weigh fish or be served in the cabin. An' does you
know what happened?" Docks asked, tensely. "Can't you see how 'twas?
Believe _me_, sir, 'twas a cold, wet day, a bitter day; an' 'tis no
wonder that one o' they folk went below t' warm hisself at the
forecastle stove--went below, where poor Tommy Mib was lyin' sick.
Skipper, sir," said Docks, with wide eyes, leaning over the table and
letting his voice drop, "I seed that man come up--come tumblin' up like
mad, sir, his face so white as paint. He'd seed Tommy Mib! An' he
yelled, sir; an' Skipper Jim whirled about when he heard that word, an'
I seed his lips draw away from his teeth.

"'Over the side, every man o' you!' sings he.

"But 'twas not the skipper's order--'twas that man's horrid cry that
sent un over the side. They tumbled into the punts and pushed off. It
made me shiver, sir, t' see the fright they was in.

"'Stand by t' get out o' this!' says the skipper.

"'Twas haul on this an' haul on that, an' 'twas heave away with the
anchor, 'til we was well under weigh with all canvas spread. We beat
out, takin' wonderful chances in the tickle, an' stood off t' the
sou'east. That night, when we was well off, the cook says t' me that he
_thinks_ he've nerve enough t' be boiled in his own pot in a good cause,
but he've no mind t' make a Fox's martyr of hisself for the likes o'
Skipper Jim.

"'Cook,' says I, 'we'll leave this here ship at the next port.'

"'Docks,' says he, ''tis a clever thought.'

"'Twas Skipper Jim's trick at the wheel, an' I loafed aft t' have a word
with un--keepin' well t' win'ward all the time; for he'd just come up
from the forecastle.

"'Skipper Jim,' says I, 'we're found out.'

"'What's found out?' says he.

"'The case o' smallpox for'ard,' says I. 'What you goin' t' do about
it?'

"'Do!' says he. 'What'll I do? Is it you, Docks, that's askin' me that?
Well,' says he, 'Jagger an' me fixed _that_ all up when I seed him there
t' Wayfarer's Tickle. They's three ports above Harbour Deep, an' I'm
goin' t' trade un all. 'Twill be a v'y'ge by that time. Then I'm goin'
t' run the _Sink or Swim_ back o' the islands in Seal Run. Which done,
I'll wait for Tommy Mib t' make up his mind, one way or t' other. If he
casts loose, I'll wait, decent as you like, 'til he's well under weigh,
when I'll ballast un well an' heave un over. If he's goin' t' bide a
spell longer in this world, I'll wait 'til he's s