d, that's what he'll get," said the captain warmly. "I
shall report him as soon as I get ashore."

The subject exhausted, the seaman returned to his work, and the captain
continued steering in moody silence.

Slowly, slowly darkness gave way to light. The different portions of
the craft, instead of all being blurred into one, took upon themselves
shape, and stood out wet and distinct in the cold grey of the breaking
day. But the lighter it became, the harder the skipper stared and rubbed
his eyes, and looked from the deck to the flat marshy shore, and from
the shore back to the deck again.

"Here, come here," he cried, beckoning to one of the crew.

"Yessir," said the man, advancing.

"There's something in one of my eyes," faltered the skipper. "I can't
see straight; everything seems mixed up. Now, speaking deliberate and
without any hurry, which side o' the ship do you say the cook's galley's
on?"

"Starboard," said the man promptly, eyeing him with astonishment.

"Starboard," repeated the other softly. "He says starboard, and that's
what it seems to me. My lad, yesterday morning it was on the port side."

The seaman received this astounding communication with calmness, but, as
a slight concession to appearances, said "Lor!"

"And the water-cask," said the skipper; "what colour is it?"

"Green," said the man.

"Not white?" inquired the skipper, leaning heavily upon the wheel.

"Whitish-green," said the man, who always believed in keeping in with
his superior officers.

The captain swore at him.

By this time two or three of the crew who had over-heard part of the
conversation had collected aft, and now stood in a small wondering knot
before their strange captain.

"My lads," said the latter, moistening his dry lips with his tongue,
"I name no names--I don't know 'em yet--and I cast no suspicions, but
somebody has been painting up and altering this 'ere craft, and twisting
things about until a man 'ud hardly know her. Now what's the little
game?"

There was no answer, and the captain, who was seeing things clearer and
clearer in the growing light, got paler and paler.

"I must be going crazy," he muttered. "Is this the SMILING JANE, or am I
dreaming?"

"It ain't the SMILING JANE," said one of the seamen; "leastways," he
added cautiously, "it wasn't when I came aboard."

"Not the SMILING JANE!" roared the skipper; "what is it, then?"

"Why, the MARY ANN," chorused the astonished crew.

"My lads