, impressively, and there was nothing of
severity or indignation in his voice or look. "Don't commit yourself,
Gunter. See, I place the watch on this table. If you bought it to give
to your sweetheart, take it up. If you stole it from a pretty young
lady in one of the rows of Yarmouth some months ago, and would now wish
me to restore it to her--for I know her and the watch well--let it lie."

Gunter looked at the captain, then at the watch, and hesitated. Then
his head drooped, and in a low voice he said--

"I am guilty, sir."

Without a word more, Captain Bream laid his hand on the poor man's
shoulder and pressed it. Gunter knew well what was meant. He went down
on his knees. The captain kneeled beside him, and in a deep, intensely
earnest voice, claimed forgiveness of the sin that had been confessed,
and prayed that the sinner's soul might be there and then cleansed in
the precious blood of Jesus.

John Gunter was completely broken down; tears rolled over his cheeks,
and it required all his great physical strength to enable him to keep
down the sobs that well-nigh choked him.

Fishermen of the North Sea are tough. Their eyes are not easily made to
swell or look red by salt water, whether it come from the ocean without
or the mightier ocean within. When Gunter had risen from his knees and
wiped his eyes with the end of a comforter, which had probably been
worked under the superintendence of Ruth herself; there were no signs of
emotion left--only a subdued look in his weatherworn face.

"I give myself up, sir," he said, "to suffer what punishment is due."

"No punishment is due, my man. Jesus has borne all the punishment due
to you and me. In regard to man, you have restored that which you took
away, and well do I know that the young lady--like her Master--forgives
freely. I will return the watch to her. You can go back to your
comrades--nobody shall ever hear more about this. If they chaff you, or
question you, just say nothing, and smile at them."

"But--but, sir," said Gunter, moving uneasily.

"I ain't used to smilin'. I--I've bin so used to look gruff that--"

"Look gruff, then, my man," interrupted the captain, himself unable to
repress a smile. "If you're not gruff in your heart, it won't matter
much what you look like. Just look gruff, an' keep your mouth shut, and
they'll soon let you alone."

Acting on this advice, John Gunter returned to his mates looking
gruffer, if possible, an