Bruiser.' Consequently when he clapped me on the back, and
asked me when the banns was to be, I only smiled."

"What did he do?" inquired the mate, who was becoming interested.

"Put 'em up," groaned the skipper, "an' we all went to church to hear
'em. Talk o' people walking over your grave, George, it's nothing to
what I felt--nothing. I felt a hypocrite, almost. Somehow he found out
about me, and I've been hiding ever since I sent you that note. He told
a pal he was going to give me a licking, and come down to Fairhaven with
us and make mischief between me and the missis."

"That 'ud be worse than the licking," said the mate sagely.

"Ah! and she'd believe him afore she would me, too, an' we've been
married seventeen years," said the skipper mournfully.

"Perhaps that's"--began the mate, and stopped suddenly.

"Perhaps what?" inquired the other, after waiting a reasonable time for
him to finish.

"H'm, I forgot what I was going to say," said the mate. "Funny, it's
gone now. Well, you're all right now. You'd intended this to be the last
trip to London for some time."

"Yes, that's what made me a bit more loving than I should ha' been,"
mused the skipper. "However, all's well that ends well. How did you get
on about the cook? Did you ship one?"

"Yes, I've got one, but he's only signed as far as Fairhaven," replied
the mate. "Fine strong chap he is. He's too good for a cook. I never saw
a better built man in my life. It'll do your eyes good to look at him.
Here, cook!"

At the summons a huge, close-cropped head was thrust out of the galley,
and a man of beautiful muscular development stepped out before the eyes
of the paralyzed skipper, and began to remove his coat.

"Ain't he a fine chap?" said the mate admiringly. "Show him your biceps,
cook."

With a leer at the captain the cook complied. He then doubled his fists,
and, ducking his head scientifically, danced all round the stupefied
master of the Frolic.

"Put your dooks up," he cried warningly. "I'm going to dot you!"

"What the deuce are you up to, cook?" demanded the mate, who had been
watching his proceedings in speechless amazement.

"Cook!" said the person addressed, with majestic scorn. "I'm no cook;
I'm Bill Simmons, the 'Battersea Bruiser,' an' I shipped on this ere
little tub all for your dear captin's sake. I'm going to put sich a
'ed on 'im that when he wants to blow his nose he'll have to get a
looking-glass to see where to go to. I'm g