it, too, and I think
Graves began to suspect it.

Well, a day came when Graves, who had been up since dawn, saw the smoke
of a steamer along the horizon, and began to fire off his revolver so
that I, too, might wake and participate in his joy. I made tea and went
ashore.

"It's _her_ steamer," he said.

"Yes," said I, "and we've got to decide something."

"About Bo?"

"Suppose I take her off your hands--for a week or so--till you and Miss
Chester have settled down and put your house in order. Then Miss
Chester--Mrs. Graves, that is--can decide what is to be done. I admit
that I'd rather wash my hands of the business--but I'm the only white
man available, and I propose to stand by my race. Don't say a word to
Bo--just bring her out to the schooner and leave her."

In the upshot Graves accepted my offer, and while Bo, fairly bristling
with excitement and curiosity, was exploring the farther corners of my
cabin, we slipped out and locked the door on her. The minute she knew
what had happened she began to tear around and raise Cain. It sounded a
little like a cat having a fit.

Graves was white and unhappy. "Let's get away quick," he said; "I feel
like a skunk."

But Miss Chester was everything that her photograph said about her, and
more too, so that the trick he had played Bo was very soon a negligible
weight on Graves's mind.

If the wedding was quick and business-like, it was also jolly and
romantic. The oldest passenger gave the bride away. All the crew came
aft and sang "The Voice That Breathed O'er E-den That Earliest
Wedding-Day"--to the tune called "Blairgowrie." They had worked it up in
secret for a surprise. And the bride's dove-brown eyes got a little
teary. I was best man. The captain read the service, and choked
occasionally. As for Graves--I had never thought him handsome--well,
with his brown face and white linen suit, he made me think, and I'm sure
I don't know why, of St. Michael--that time he overcame Lucifer. The
captain blew us to breakfast, with champagne and a cake, and then the
happy pair went ashore in a boat full of the bride's trousseau, and the
crew manned the bulwarks and gave three cheers, and then something like
twenty-seven more, and last thing of all the brass cannon was fired, and
the little square flags that spell G-o-o-d L-u-c-k were run up on the
signal halyards.

As for me, I went back to my schooner feeling blue and lonely. I knew
little about women and less about love.