rought it on to the deck, and started "The Washington
Post."

"Kittiwake Jack" and Bill Brown immediately fled below.

The mate sat on the edge of the hatch and gazed lovingly at the new
instrument of torture, as he beat time to the inspiring strains, with a
belaying pin. When the "Washington Post," was finished, he laid on
"Jacksonville," with a chorus of human laughter, which sounded quite
eerie. And so intent was he on this occupation, that he never even
noticed the approach of Cap'n Pigg's boat until it was almost alongside.

The Skipper clambered aboard, looking black as thunder. This new outrage
was not to be borne. Just as his foot touched the deck the instrument
gave forth its unholy cachinnation of "Ha! Ha! Ha!" in the high nasal
tones peculiar to its kind.

Cap'n Pigg was not easily disconcerted, but this ghostly "Ha! Ha! Ha!"
was a distinct trial to his nerves; he thrust his hands deep into his
coat pockets, glared at the mate, and then growled:

"Wodjer got there? More 'armony?"

"Grammarphone," was the mate's brief reply. He was getting sulky.

"Grammar be blowed! Worst grammar I ever 'eard," returned Pigg. "Turn
the bloomin' thing off--and turn it off at the main. Enough to give any
respectable, law-abidin' sailor-man the 'ump!"

He proceeded two steps down the companion; then hurled this parting shot
at the offending mate:

"You oughter be 'ead of a laundry where the 'andle of the mangle turns a
pianer-horgan as well--work and play!" he concluded scornfully, as he
disappeared from the musician's sight below.

The mate whistled softly; then he stopped the offending instrument and
conveyed it below.

"P'raps the old man'll be glad of it, one o' these days," he muttered
mysteriously.

The next trip of the _Saucy Sally_ was a more eventful one. She left
Tilbury in a light haze, which first thickened into a pale-colored fog,
and then, aided by the smoke from the tall chimneys, to a regular
"pea-souper." The mate, taking advantage of the Captain's spell below,
brought up a long yard of tin, which looked remarkably like the _Saucy
Sally's_ fog-horn, and quietly slipped it overboard.

As they got lower and lower down the river, the fog increased, and both
Cap'n Pigg and Topper experienced a certain amount of anxiety as, first
another barge, then a tramp steamer, and finally, a huge liner, all
sounding their fog-horns loudly, passed them considerably too close for
comfort. The Skipper himself was a