t the mate was
never a "snapper" seaman, being too much interested in gardens for his
liking.

"It's only a mile or two to Beach Rock Cove. We'll make it on the next
tack if the wind holds. 'T is a long leg and a short one, and we'll
have a good chance then to make the Boiling Brooks to-morrow."

"Lee oh!" and, putting the helm up, the Leading Light was soon racing
off into the increasing darkness towards the cliffs away on the
opposite side of the bay.

The wind freshened as the evening advanced--the usual experience of
our late fall nights. An hour went by, and as the wind was still
rising, the flying jib was taken in. After this the captain sent the
crew below for a "mug o' tea" while he took the first trick at the
wheel.

Still the wind rose. The sea too was beginning to make, and the little
craft started to fall to leeward too much to please the skipper. The
men were again called, and together they reset all the head canvas.
The Leading Light now answered better to her helm, and, heading up a
point, reached well into the bay.

"Smooth water again before dawn," said the skipper in his endeavour to
cheer the despondent mate, when once more they had gone aft. "Looks
like clearing overhead. I reckon she'll be well along by daylight."

But the mate seemed "stun," and only grunted in return.

"You go down and finish supper, and then you can give me a spell at
the wheel while I get my pipe lighted," continued the captain.
Thereupon the other, nothing loath to have something to keep his mind
diverted, was soon below, searching for consolation in a steaming mug,
but failing to find it, in spite of the welcome contrast between the
cosy warm cabin, and the darkness and driving spume on deck, lacking
as he did, alas, the sea genius of our race.

"Watch on deck!" at length called Bourne; and a few minutes later,
having entrusted the helm to the mate, he was lighting his pipe at the
cabin fire. All of a sudden down, down, down went the lee floor of the
cabin, and up, up, up went the weather, till it felt as if the little
ship were really going over.

"What's up?" the skipper fairly yelled through the companion, as
clinging and struggling his utmost he forced his way on deck, as soon
as the vessel righted herself enough to make it possible. "Hard down!
Hard down! Let her come up! Ease her! Ease her!"--and whether the puff
of wind slackened or the mate lost hold of the wheel, he never has
been able to tell, but she rig