n merry England among sober, Christian folk.

"Tremendous odd, I call it," exclaimed Joe Hawkridge. "Here I was a
pirate and hating the dirty business. And my dreams were all of learnin'
to be a gentleman ashore, to know how to read books and such. Blow me,
Jack, we should ha' swapped berths."

"If my good uncle is alive I mean to commend you to his kindness,"
exclaimed Jack. "We must cleave together, and you shall have a skinful
of books and school and manners."

This pleased the young sea rover beyond measure and he diverted himself
with pictures of a cleaner, kindlier world than he had ever known. In
the small hours of the night, the twain drowsed upon their frail
platform which floated as a speck on the shrouded ocean. The waves
splashed over the spars as the breeze grew livelier and the piteous
voyagers were sopping wet but the water was not chill and they slept
through this discomfort.

Jack Cockrell dreamed of walking in a green lane of Charles Town with
lovely Dorothy Stuart. A wave slapped his face and he awoke with a
sputtering cry of bewilderment. The eastern sky was rosy and the sea
shimmered in the eternal beauty of a new day. Joe Hawkridge sat huddled
against the mast, chin and knees together, his sharp eyes scanning the
horizon. With a grin he exclaimed:

"The watch ahoy! Rouse out, shipmate, and show a leg! Turn to cheerly!
Holystone decks and wash down, ye lazy lubber."

Jack groaned and scowled as he rolled over to ease his aching bones. He
was in no mood for jesting. There was no land in sight nor the gleam of
a sail, naught but the empty waste of the Atlantic, and the wind still
held westerly.

"Let's have the beggarly morsel you miscall breakfast, Joe, and a swig
from the breaker. Are we bound across the main?"

"Straight for London River, and the school you prate about, my bucko,"
replied the scamp of a pirate. "Haul away on your belt and set the
buckle tighter. 'Twill ease the cursed hunger pain that gnaws like a
rat."

They munched the pittance of salty food which made the thirst the harder
to endure, and then watched the sun climb hot and dazzling. It was
futile to hoist the sail and so they pulled the canvas over them as the
heat became more intense. By noon, Jack was begging for water to lave
his tongue but Joe Hawkridge laughed him to scorn and swore to hit him
with an oar unless he changed his tune. Never in his life had Jack known
the lack of food or drink and he therefore suffer