massive head, covered with
shaggy grey curling hair, seemed to indicate superior powers of
intellect. This was Morley Jones, the master and owner of the sloop.

"A pretty mess you've made of it; I might have been in Yarmouth by this
time," he said, testily.

"More likely at the bottom of the sea," answered Jim, quietly, as he
went aft and looked at the compass--more from habit than from any desire
to receive information from that instrument.

"Well, if I had been at the bottom o' the sea, what then? Who's to say
that I mayn't risk my life if I see fit? It's not worth much," he said,
gloomily.

"You seem to forget that in risking your own life you risk the lives of
those who sail along with you," replied Jim, with a bold yet
good-humoured look at the skipper.

"And what if I do risk their lives?--they ain't worth much, either,
_I'm_ sure?"

"Not to you, Morley, but worth a good deal to themselves, not to mention
their wives and families and friends. You know well enough that if I
had wished ever so much to return aboard last night your boat could not
have got alongside the Gull for the sea. Moreover, you also know that
if you had attempted to put to sea in such weather, this leaky tub, with
rotten sails and running gear, would have been a wreck on the Goodwin
sands before now, and you and I, with the two men and the boy, would
have been food for the gulls and fishes."

"Not at all," retorted Jones, "there's not much fear of our lives here.
The lifeboat crews are too active for that; and as to the sloop, why,
she's insured you know for her full value--for more than her value,
indeed."

Jones said this with a chuckle and a sly expression in his face, as he
glanced meaningly at his companion.

"I know nothing about your insurance or your cargo, and, what's more, I
don't want to know," said Jim, almost angrily. "You've been at
Square-Tom again," he added, suddenly laying his hand upon the shoulder
of his companion and looking earnestly into his eyes.

It was now Jones's turn to be angry, yet it was evident that he made an
effort to restrain his feelings, as he replied, "Well, what if I have?
It's one thing for you to advise me to become a teetotaller, and it's
quite another thing for me to agree to do it. I tell you again, as I've
often told you before, Jim Welton, that _I don't mean to do it_, and I'm
not going to submit to be warned and reasoned with by you, as if you was
my grandfather. I _know_ that