th of a
Nor'wester. "Of course not. But then, Nigel, poetry in your mother
_is_ poetry, an' she can _do_ it, lad--screeds of it--equal to anything
that Dibdin, or, or,--that other fellow, you know, I forget his name--
ever put pen to--why, your mother is herself a poem! neatly made up,
rounded off at the corners, French-polished and all shipshape. Ha! you
needn't go an' shelter yourself under _her_ wings, wi' your inflated, up
in the clouds, reef-point patterin', balloon-like nonsense."

"Well, well, father, don't get so hot about it; I won't offend again.
Besides, I'm quite content to take a very low place so long as you give
mother her right position. We won't disagree about that, but I suspect
that we differ considerably about the other matter you mentioned."

"What other matter?" demanded the sire.

"My doing duty as first mate," answered the son. "It must be quite
evident to you by this time, I should think, that I am not cut out for a
sailor. After all your trouble, and my own efforts during this long
voyage round the Cape, I'm no better than an amateur. I told you that a
youth taken fresh from college, without any previous experience of the
sea except in boats, could not be licked into shape in so short a time.
It is absurd to call me first mate of the _Sunshine_. That is in
reality Mr Moor's position--"

"No, it isn't, Nigel, my son," interrupted the captain, firmly. "Mr
Moor is _second_ mate. _I_ say so, an' if I, the skipper and owner o'
this brig, don't know it, I'd like to know who does! Now, look here,
lad. You've always had a bad habit of underratin' yourself an'
contradictin' your father. I'm an old salt, you know, an' I tell 'ee
that for the time you've bin at sea, an' the opportunities you've had,
you're a sort o' walkin' miracle. You're no more an ammytoor than I am,
and another voyage or two will make you quite fit to work your way all
over the ocean, an' finally to take command o' this here brig, an' let
your old father stay at home wi'--wi'--"

"With the Poetess," suggested Nigel.

"Just so--wi' the equal o' Dibdin, not to mention the other fellow. Now
it seems to me--. How's 'er head?"

The captain suddenly changed the subject here.

Nigel, who chanced to be standing next the binnacle, stooped to examine
the compass, and the flood of light from its lamp revealed a smooth but
manly and handsome face which seemed quite to harmonise with the cheery
voice that belonged to it.