ld berth at Buller's Wharf. It was occupied by
a deaf sailing-barge, which, moved at last by self-interest, not
unconnected with its paint, took up a less desirable position and
consoled itself with adjectives.

The men on the wharf had gone for the day, and the crew of the
_Elizabeth Barstow_, after making fast, went below to prepare themselves
for an evening ashore. Standing before the largest saucepan-lid in the
galley, the cook was putting the finishing touches to his toilet.

A light, quick step on the wharf attracted the attention of the skipper
as he leaned against the side smoking. It stopped just behind him, and
turning round he found himself gazing into the soft brown eyes of the
prettiest girl he had ever seen.

[Illustration: Soft brown eyes 038]

"Is Mr. Jewell on board, please?" she asked, with a smile.

"Jewell?" repeated the skipper. "Jewell? Don't know the name."

"He _was_ on board," said the girl, somewhat taken aback. "This is the
_Elizabeth Barstow_, isn't it?"

"What's his Christian name," inquired the skipper, thoughtfully.

"Albert," replied the girl. "Bert," she added, as the other shook his
head.

"Oh, the cook!" said the skipper. "I didn't know his name was Jewell.
Yes, he's in the galley."

He stood eyeing her and wondering in a dazed fashion what she could see
in a small, white-faced, slab-sided--

The girl broke in upon his meditations. "How does he cook?" she
inquired, smiling.

He was about to tell her, when he suddenly remembered the cook's
statement as to his instructor. "He's getting on," he said, slowly;
"he's getting on. Are you his sister?"

The girl smiled and nodded. "Ye--es," she said, slowly. "Will you tell
him I am waiting for him, please?"

The skipper started and drew himself up; then he walked forward and put
his head in at the galley.

"Bert," he said, in a friendly voice, "your sister wants to see you."

"Who?" inquired Mr. Jewell, in the accents of amazement. He put his head
out at the door and nodded, and then, somewhat red in the face with
the exercise, drew on his jacket and walked towards her. The skipper
followed.

"Thank you," said the girl, with a pleasant smile.

"You're quite welcome," said the skipper.

Mr. Jewell stepped ashore and, after a moment of indecision, shook hands
with his visitor.

"If you're down this way again," said the skipper, as they turned away,
"perhaps you'd like to see the cabin. We're in rather a pickle just now,