became the foundation of such a library as was not often
met with in the colonies. Job gave the lad an understanding smile and a
pat on the back, for Jeremy had told him of his passion for an
education.

The four grown men drank each other's health and separated with many
hearty handclasps. An hour later the _Queen's_ anchor was up and she was
moving out to sea upon the tide, cheered vigorously from the docks and
saluted by every vessel she passed. The warm September dusk settled over
the ocean. A soft land breeze rustled in the shrouds, and the great
sails filled with a gentle flapping. Slowly the tall ship bowed herself
to the northeast and settled away on her course contentedly, while the
water ran with a smooth murmur beneath her forefoot. Jeremy, lying
wide-eyed in his bunk, where a single star shone through the open port,
thought it the sweetest sound he had ever heard. He was homeward bound
at last.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXIII

There were brave days aboard the _Queen_ as she voyaged up the
coast--days of sun and light winds when the boys sat lazily in the blue
shadow of the sails, looking off through half-closed eyes toward the
faint line of shore that appeared and disappeared to leeward; or
listened to Job's long tales of adventure up and down the high seas; or
fished with hand-lines over the taffrail, happy if they pulled up even a
goggle-eyed flounder. Twice they ran into fog, and on those days, when
the wet dripped dismally off the shrouds and the watch on deck sang
mournful airs in the gray gloom, the two lads settled into big chairs in
the cabin, beneath a mighty brass oil-lamp, and while Bob sat bemused
over Captain Dampier's Voyages, Jeremy fought Apollyon with that good
knight Christian, in "Pilgrim's Progress." But best of all were the days
of howling fair weather, when sky and sea were deep blue and the wind
boomed over out of the west, and the scattered flecks of white cloud
raced with the flying spray below. Then all hands would stand by to
slack a sheet here or reef a sail there, and Ghent, who was a bold
sailor, would take the kicking tiller with Job's help, and keep the big
ship on her course, the last possible foot of canvas straining at the
yardarms. High along the weather rail, with the wind screaming in their
ears or down in the lee scuppers where the white-shot green passed close
below with a roar and a rush, the boys would cling, yelling aloud their
exultation. It was more th