again, made their way quietly to the mate.

"If we can only take him to Battlesea in this rig it'll be all right,"
said the latter. "You chaps stand by me. His slippers and sou'-wester
is the only clothes he's got aboard. Chuck every needle you can lay your
hands on overboard, or else he'll git trying to make a suit out of a
piece of old sail or something. If we can only take him to Mr. Pearson
like this, it won't be so bad after all."

While these arrangements were in hand above, the skipper and the boy
were busy over others below. Various startling schemes propounded by the
skipper for obtaining possession of his men's attire were rejected by
the youth as unlawful, and, what was worse, impracticable. For a couple
of hours they discussed ways and means, but only ended in diatribes
against the mean ways of the crew; and the skipper, whose head ached
still from his excesses, fell into a state of sullen despair at length,
and sat silent.

"By Jove, Tommy, I've got it," he cried suddenly, starting up and
hitting the table with his fist. "Where's your other suit?"

"That ain't no bigger that this one," said Tommy.

"You git it out," said the skipper, with a knowing toss of his head.
"Ah, there we are. Now go in my state-room and take those off."

The wondering Tommy, who thought that great grief had turned his
kinsman's brain, complied, and emerged shortly afterwards in a blanket,
bringing his clothes under his arm.

"Now, do you know what I'm going to do?" inquired the skipper, with a
big smile.

"No."

"Fetch me the scissors, then. Now do you know what I'm going to do?"

"Cut up the two suits and make 'em into one," hazarded the
horror-stricken Tommy. "Here, stop it! Leave off!"

The skipper pushed him impatiently off, and, placing the clothes on the
table, took up the scissors, and, with a few slashing strokes, cut them
garments into their component parts.

"What am _I_ to wear," said Tommy, beginning to blubber. "You didn't
think of that?"

"What are you to wear, you selfish young pig?" said the skipper sternly.
"Always thinking about yourself. Go and git some needles and thread,
and if there's any left over, and you're a good boy, I'll see whether I
can't make something for you out of the leavings."

"There ain't no needles here," whined Tommy, after a lengthened search.

"Go down the fo'c'sle and git the case of sail-makers' needles, then,"
said the skipper, "Don't let anyone see what you're after, a