thanks when we arrived at the poop again, where he left us.
Jennie was not interested, and the fact was not lost upon the old fellow,
who turned away to join his mates at the kettles.

"Do you know, Mr. Rolling, I don't care a rap for ships," said she. "They
don't interest me any more, and I don't think they are the place for
women, anyhow."

"It would be mighty lonesome for some men if they acted on that idea and
kept out of them," I answered.

We were all alone by the mizzen, the captains having gone below with Mrs.
Sackett to show her the interior of the ship.

The young girl looked up, and I fancied there was just a sparkle of
amusement in her eyes.

"Do you really think so?" she said. "Can't men find more useful
occupations than following the sea,--that is, those who are lonely?"

"Some men are fitted to do certain things in this world and unfitted for
others. It would be hard on those whose lines are laid out like that for
them. You don't think a man follows the sea after his first voyage
because he likes it, do you?" I said.

"Then for Heaven's sake why don't they stay ashore?" she demanded.

"Would you care for a man who would stay out of a thing that he was
fitted for, simply because it was hard?" I asked her.

She blushed and turned away.

"I was not speaking of caring for any one, Mr. Rolling," she replied.
And then she added quickly, "I think we will go below and see what they
have for us."

"No, wait just one minute, Jennie," I said, taking her hand and stopping
her gently without attracting the attention of the men forward. "This is
the first time we've had a chance to talk of ourselves in two months. I
want to ask you if you really meant that?"

"Meant what?" she said, stopping and turning around, facing me squarely.

"That you didn't care for any one?" I stammered, and I remember how my
face burned.

She let me hold her hand and looked up into my eyes.

"I never said any such thing--that I didn't care for any one," she
replied.

"Then do you, Jennie?"

She made no answer, and let her eyes fall. I let go her hand and drew
myself up, for I was uncertain.

"I say, Rolling, what the deuce are you two doing?" bawled the voice of
Jackwell from the companion, and then I realized that there was little
privacy aboard a ship of three hundred tons.

We went aft guiltily, and met the rest coming up the companion with
bottled beer and sandwiches which were served as refreshments. Chairs
were