e? Wasn't it,

"'They's lakes o' fire in hell t' sail for such as Skipper Jim!'

you sung? Lord! sir, I'm thinkin' I'll have t' ship along o' Skipper Jim
once more!"

"No, no, lad!" cried Skipper Billy, speaking from the heart. "For you
was willin' t' die right. But God help Jagger on the mornin' o' the
Judgment Day! I'll be waitin' at the foot o' the throne o' God t' charge
un with the death o' my wee kid!"

Doctor Luke sat there frowning.

XXVI

DECOYED

Despite Skipper Billy's anxious, laughing protest that 'twas not yet fit
weather to be at sea, the doctor next day ordered the sail set: for, as
he said, he was all of a maddening itch to be about certain business, of
a professional and official turn, at our harbour and Wayfarer's Tickle,
and could no longer wait the pleasure of a damned obstinate nor'east
gale--a shocking way to put it, indeed, but vastly amusing when uttered
with a fleeting twinkle of the eye: vastly convincing, too, followed by
a snap of the teeth and the gleam of some high, heroic purpose. So we
managed to get the able little _Greased Lightning_ into the thick of
it--merrily into the howl and gray frown of that ill-minded sea--and,
though wind and sea, taking themselves seriously, conspired to smother
her, we made jolly reaches to the nor'ard, albeit under double reefs,
and came that night to Poor Luck Harbour, where the doctor's sloop was
waiting. There we bade good-bye to the mood-stricken Docks, and a short
farewell to Skipper Billy, who must return into the service of the
Government doctors from St. Johns, now, at last, active in the smallpox
ports. And next morning, the wind having somewhat abated in the night,
the doctor and I set sail for our harbour, where, two days later, with
the gale promising to renew itself, we dropped anchor: my dear sister,
who had kept watch from her window, now waiting on my father's wharf.

* * * * *

It seemed to me then--and with utmost conviction I uttered the feeling
abroad, the while perceiving no public amusement--that the powers of
doctors were fair witchlike: for no sooner had my sweet sister swallowed
the first draught our doctor mixed--nay, no sooner had it been offered
her in the silver spoon, and by the doctor, himself--than her soft cheek
turned the red of health, and her dimples, which of late had been
expressionless, invited kisses in a fashion the most compelling, so that
a man of mere human part