ttle--and hers--and
George's--harder than ever. The fight had been worth while of itself,
now it was more than ever a fight for her happiness. And Egbert--by the
living jingo, Egbert was in for a licking.

So, to the mild astonishment of the placid Foam Flake, who had been
meandering on in a sort of walking doze, Captain Kendrick tugged briskly
at the reins and broke out in song, the hymn which Judah Cahoon had sung
a few nights before:

"Light in the darkness, sailor,
Day is at hand."

Judah himself was singing when his lodger entered the kitchen, but his
was no joyful ditty. It was a dirge, which he was intoning as he bent
over the cookstove. A slow and solemn and mournful wail dealing with
death and burial of one "Old Storm Along," whoever he may have been.

"'Old Storm Along is dead and gone
To my way, oh, Storm Along.
Old Storm Along is dead and gone
Ay--ay--ay, Mister Storm A-long.

"'When Stormy died I dug his grave
To my way, oh, Storm Along,
I dug his grave with a silver spade.
Ay--ay--ay, Mister Storm A-long.

"'I hove him up with an iron crane,
To my way, oh, Storm Along,
And lowered him down with----'"

Kendrick broke in upon the flow of misery.

"Sshh! All hands to the pumps!" he shouted. "Heavens, what a wail!
Sounds like the groans of the dyin'. Didn't your breakfast set well,
Judah?"

Judah turned, looked at him, and grinned sheepishly. "'Tis kind of a
lonesome song, ain't it?" he admitted. "Still we used to sing it
consider'ble aboard ship. Don't you know we did, Cap'n?"

The captain grunted. "Maybe so," he observed, "but it's one of the
things that would keep the average man from going to sea. What's the
news since I've been gone--anything?"

Judah nodded. "Um-hm," he said. "I cal'late 'twas the news that set me
goin' about old Storm Along. Esther Tidditt's been over here half the
forenoon, seemed so, tellin' about Elviry Snowden's aunt over to
Ostable. She's dead, the old woman is, and she died slow and agonizin',
'cordin' to Esther. Elviry was all struck of a heap about it. And now
she's gone."

"Gone! Elvira? Dead, you mean?"

"Hey? No, no! The aunt's dead, but Elviry ain't. She's gone over to
Ostable to stay till after the funeral. She's about the only relation to
the remains there is left, so Esther tells me. There was a reg'lar young
typhoon over to the Harbor when the news struck. 'Twas too late for the
up trai