careful he doesn't catch hold of the mops," said Miss Evans; "but if
he does, the others are to hit him over the head with the handles. Never
mind about hurting him."

"Take this wheel a minnit, Jack," said the skipper, pale but determined.

The mate came forward and took it unwillingly, and the skipper, trying
hard to conceal his trepidation, walked towards Miss Evans and tried
to quell her with his eye. The power of the human eye is notorious, and
Miss Evans showed her sense of the danger she ran by making an energetic
attempt to close the skipper's with her mop, causing him to duck with
amazing nimbleness. At the same moment another mop loaded with white
paint was pushed into the back of his neck. He turned with a cry of
rage, and then realising the odds against him flung his dignity to the
winds and dodged with the agility of a schoolboy. Through the galley
and round the masts he went with the avenging mops in mad pursuit, until
breathless and exhausted he suddenly sprang on to the side and climbed
frantically into the rigging.

"Coward!" said Miss Evans, shaking her weapon at him.

"Come down," cried Miss Williams. "Come down like a man."

"It's no good wasting time over _him_," said Miss Evans, after another
vain appeal to the skipper's manhood. "He's escaped. Get some more stuff
on your mops."

The mate, who had been laughing boisterously, checked himself suddenly,
and assumed a gravity of demeanour more in accordance with his position.
The mops were dipped in solemn silence, and Miss Evans approaching
regarded him significantly.

"Now, my dears," said the mate, waving his hand with a deprecatory
gesture, "don't be silly."

"Don't be _what?_" inquired the sensitive Miss Evans, raising her mop.

"You know what I mean," said the mate hastily. "I can't help myself."

"Well, we're going to help you," said Miss Evans. "Turn the ship round."

"You obey orders, Jack," cried the skipper from aloft.

"It's all very well for you sitting up there in peace and comfort," said
the mate indignantly. "I'm not going to be tarred to please you. Come
down and take charge of your ship."

"Do your duty, Jack," said the skipper, who was polishing his face with
a handkerchief. "They won't touch you. They daren't. They're afraid to."

"You're egging 'em on," cried the mate wrathfully. "I won't steer; come
and take it yourself."

He darted behind the wheel as Miss Evans, who was getting impatient,
made a thrust at him, a