et and decanting it into the
other. And what might it not lead to in the end?

Why, ere long, in good sooth, it led to the abstraction of the
compass from the binnacle; so that we were fain to substitute for it,
the one brought along in the Chamois.

It was Jarl that first published this last and alarming theft.
Annatoo being at the helm at dawn, he had gone to relieve her; and
looking to see how we headed, was horror-struck at the emptiness of
the binnacle.

I started to my feet; sought out the woman, and ferociously demanded
the compass. But her face was a blank; every word a denial.

Further lenity was madness. I summoned Samoa, told him what had
happened, and affirmed that there was no safety for us except in the
nightly incarceration of his spouse. To this he privily assented; and
that very evening, when Annatoo descended into the forecastle, we
barred over her the scuttle-slide. Long she clamored, but
unavailingly. And every night this was repeated; the dame saying her
vespers most energetically.

It has somewhere been hinted, that Annatoo occasionally cast sheep's
eyes at Jarl. So I was not a little surprised when her manner toward
him decidedly changed. Pulling at the ropes with us, she would give
him sly pinches, and then look another way, innocent as a lamb. Then
again, she would refuse to handle the same piece of rigging with him;
with wry faces, rinsed out the wooden can at the water cask, if it so
chanced that my Viking had previously been drinking therefrom. At
other times, when the honest Skyeman came up from below, she would
set up a shout of derision, and loll out her tongue; accompanying all
this by certain indecorous and exceedingly unladylike gestures,
significant of the profound contempt in which she held him.

Yet, never did Jarl heed her ill-breeding; but patiently overlooked
and forgave it. Inquiring the reason of the dame's singular conduct,
I learned, that with eye averted, she had very lately crept close to
my Viking, and met with no tender reception.

Doubtless, Jarl, who was much of a philosopher, innocently imagined
that ere long the lady would forgive and forget him. But what knows a
philosopher about women?

Ere long, so outrageous became Annatoo's detestation of him, that the
honest old tar could stand it no longer, and like most good-natured
men when once fairly roused, he was swept through and through with a
terrible typhoon of passion. He proposed, that forthwith the woman