t marry me. How much would you get if you did make the
skipper put back?"

"Very likely six months," said Biddle solemnly.

"Six months would soon pass away," said Miss Evans briskly, as she wiped
her eye.

"It would be a rest," said Miss Williams coaxingly.

The men not seeing things in quite the same light, they announced their
intention of having nothing more to do with them, and crowding together
in the bows beneath two or three blankets, condoled tearfully with each
other on their misfortunes. For some time the men stood by offering
clumsy consolations, but, tired at last of repeated rebuffs and insults,
went below and turned in, leaving the satisfied skipper at the wheel.

The night was clear and the wind light. As the effects of his libations
wore off the skipper had some misgivings as to the wisdom of his action,
but it was too late to return, and he resolved to carry on.

Looking at all the circumstances of the case, he thought it best to keep
the wheel in his own hands for a time, and the dawn came in the early
hours and found him still at his post.

Objects began to stand out clearly in the growing light, and three
dispirited girls put their heads out from their blankets and sniffed
disdainfully at the sharp morning air. Then after an animated discussion
they arose, and casting their blankets aside, walked up to the skipper
and eyed him thoughtfully.

"As easy as easy," said Jenny Evans confidently, as she drew herself up
to her full height, and looked down at the indignant man.

"Why, he isn't any bigger than a boy," said Miss Williams savagely.

"Pity we didn't think of it before," said Miss Davies. "I s'pose the
crew won't help him?"

"Not they," said Miss Evans scornfully. "If they do, we'll serve them
the same."

They went off, leaving the skipper a prey to gathering uneasiness,
watching their movements with wrinkled brow. From the forecastle and
the galley they produced two mops and a broom, and he caught his breath
sharply as Miss Evans came on deck with a pot of white paint in one hand
and a pot of tar in the other.

"Now, girls," said Miss Evans.

"Put those things down," said the skipper in a peremptory voice.

"Sha'n't," said Miss Evans bluntly. "You haven't got enough on yours,"
she said, turning to Miss Davies. "Don't spoil the skipper for a
ha'porth of tar."

At this new version of an old saw they laughed joyously, and with mops
dripping tar and paint on the deck, marched in