the boy with a queer hesitancy.

"Sonny," he began, "since we picked you up, I've been thinkin' every
day, more an' more, what I'd give to be back at your age with another
chance. Piratin' seemed a fine upstandin' trade to me when I
begun,--independent an' adventurous too, it seemed. But it's not so
fine--not so fine!" He paused. "One or two or maybe five years o' rough
livin' an' rougher fightin', a powerful waste o' money in drink an'
such, an' in the end--a dog's death by shootin' or starvation, or the
chains on Execution Dock." Another pause followed and then, turning
suddenly to Jeremy--"Lad, I can get a Governor's pardon ashore, but
'twould mean nought to me if my old days came back to trouble me. You're
young an' you're honest an' what's more you believe in God. Do you
figger a man can square himself after livin' like I've lived?" The boy
looked into the pirate's homely, anxious face. He felt that he would
always trust Job Howland. "Ay," he answered straightforwardly, and put
out his hand. The man gripped it with a sort of fierce eagerness that
was good to see and smiled the smile of a man at peace with himself.
Then he solemnly drew out his clasp-knife and pricked a small cross in
the skin of his forearm. "That," said he, "is for a sign that once I get
out o' this here pickle I'll never pirate nor free-trade no more."

The wind sank to a mere breath as the darkness gathered and Jeremy stood
the first watch while his tired friend settled into a deep sleep that
lasted till he was wakened a little after midnight. Then the boy took
his turn at sleeping.

When the morning light shone into his eyes he woke to find Job pacing
the deck and casting troubled looks at the sky. The wind was dead and
only an occasional whiff of light air moved the idly swinging canvas. A
tiny swell rocked the sloop as gently as a cradle.

"Well, my boy, we won't get far toward shore at this gait," said Job
cheerfully as Jeremy came up. "Except for maybe three hours sailin' last
night, we've made no progress at all. I've got some porridge cooked
below. You bring it on deck an' we'll have a snack."

The meal finished, they turned to the rather trying task of waiting for
a breeze. About noon Job climbed to the masthead for a reconnaissance
and on coming down reported a sail to the east, but no sign of any wind.
The sky was dull and overcast so that Job made no effort to determine
their bearings. They figured that they had drifted a dozen or