aptitude for
it--'"

Mr. Harris paused, for the Schoolmaster was smiling broadly.

"Good Lord, sir!--if you'll excuse me. Link Andrew no aptitude for
the sea! Why, that lad's seamanship saved my life once: and, what's
more, it saved the whole yacht's company! Hasn't he ever told you
about it?"

"Not a word. I think," said Mr. Harris, "our friend Link chooses to
keep his past in watertight compartments. Sit down and tell me about
it."

VII.

This was the Schoolmaster's story:

"It happened on that very cruise, sir. The _Swallow_ had been
knocking around at various West Country regattas--Weymouth, Torquay,
Dartmouth, finishing up with Plymouth. From Plymouth we were to sail
for home.

"We had dropped hook in the Merchant Shipping Anchorage, as they
call it; which is the eastern side of the Sound, by Jennycliff Bay.
That last day of the regattas--a Saturday--the wind had been almost
true north, and freshish, but nothing to mention: beautiful sailing
weather for the small boats. The big cracks had finished their
engagements and were making back for Southampton.

"Well, as I say, this north wind was a treat; especially coming, as
it did, after a week of light airs and calms that had spoilt most of
the yacht-racing. Some time in the afternoon I heard talk that our
skipper--well, I won't mention names--and, as it turned out in the
end, everyone was implicated. Anyhow, at six o'clock or thereabouts
the gig was ordered out, and every blessed officer on board went
ashore in her; which was clean contrary to regulations, of course,
but there happened to be a cinematograph show they all wanted to see
at the big music-hall--some prize-fight or other. I don't set much
store by prize-fights for my part, and living pictures give me the
headache: so, to salve everybody's conscience, I was left in sole
charge of the ship.

"Everything went smooth as a buttered cake until about nine o'clock,
when the wind, that had been dying down all the time, suddenly flew
west and began to gather strength hand over fist. . . . I never, not
being a seaman, could have believed--till I saw and felt it--the
change that came over Plymouth Sound in the space of one half-hour.
The gig had been ordered again for nine-thirty, to pull to the
Barbican Steps and be ready at ten to bring the officers on board.
But before nine-thirty I began to have my serious doubts about
sending her. It was just as well I had.

"For by nine-forty-five