teady on his pins. But,
whatever, go or stay, I'll fit the schooner with a foretopmast, bark her
canvas, paint her black, call her the _Prodigal Son_, an' lay a course
for St. Johns. They's not a man on the docks will take the _Prodigal
Son_, black hull, with topmast fore an' aft an' barked sails, inbound
from the West Coast with a cargo o' fish--not a man, sir, will take the
_Prodigal Son_ for the white, single-topmast schooner _Sink or Swim_, up
from the Labrador, reported with a case o' smallpox for'ard. For, look
you, b'y,' says he, 'nobody knows _me_ t' St. Johns.'

"'Skipper Jim,' says I, 'sure you isn't goin' t' put this fish on the
market!'

"'Hut!' says he. 'Jagger an' me is worryin' about the price o' fish
already.'

"We beat about offshore for three days, with the skipper laid up in the
forecastle. Now what do you make o' that? The skipper laid up in the
forecastle along o' Tommy Mib--an' Tommy took the way he was! Come, now,
what do you make o' that?" We shook our heads, one and all; it was plain
that the skipper, too, had been stricken. "Well, sir," Docks went on,
"when Skipper Jim come up t' give the word for Rocky Harbour, he looked
like a man risin' from the dead. 'Take her there,' says he, 'an' sing
out t' me when you're runnin' in.' Then down he went agin; but,
whatever, me an' the cook an' the second hand was willin' enough t' sail
her t' Rocky Harbour without un, for 'twas in our minds t' cut an' run
in the punt when the anchor was down. 'A scurvy trick,' says you, 't'
leave old Skipper Jim an' Tommy Mib in the forecastle, all alone--an'
Tommy took that way?' A scurvy trick!" cried Docks, his voice aquiver.
"Ay, maybe! But you ain't been aboard no smallpox-ship. You ain't never
knowed what 'tis t' lie in your bunk in the dark o' long nights
shiverin' for fear you'll be took afore mornin'. An' maybe you hasn't
seed a man took the way Tommy Mib was took--not took _quite_ that way."

"Yes, I has, b'y," said Skipper Billy, quietly. "'Twas a kid that I
seed."

"Was it, now?" Docks whispered, vacantly.

"A kid o' ten years," Skipper Billy replied.

"Ah, well," said Docks, "kids dies young. Whatever," he went on,
hurriedly, "the old man come on deck when he was slippin' up the narrows
t' the basin at Rocky Harbour.

"''Tis the last port I'll trade,' says he, 'for I'm sick, an' wantin' t'
get home.'

"We was well up, with the canvas half off her, sailin' easy, on the
lookout for a berth, when a p