oom,
rose and fell upon a sea of glassy smoothness without making any
progress worth recording.

"I wish you'd keep that thing in your berth, George," said the skipper,
as they sat at tea the second evening; "it puts me in a passion every
time I look at it."

"I couldn't think of it, cap'n," replied the mate firmly; "it makes me
angry enough as it is. Every time I think of 'em trying to poison that
poor dumb creature I sort o' choke. I try to forget it."

The skipper, eyeing him furtively, helped himself to another cup of tea.

"You haven't got a tin box with a lid to it, I s'pose?" he remarked
somewhat shamefacedly.

The mate shook his head. "I looked for one this morning," he said.
"There ain't so much as a bottle aboard we could shove it into, and it
wants shoving into something--bad, it does."

"I don't like to be beat," said the skipper, shaking his head. "All them
grinning monkeys for'ard 'ud think it a rare good joke. I'd throw it
overboard if it wasn't for that. We can't keep it this weather."

"Well, look 'ere; 'ere's a way out of it," said the mate. "Call Joe
down, and make him keep it in the fo'c's'le and take care of it."

"Why, you idiot, he'd lose it!" rapped out the other impatiently.

"O' course he would," said the mate; "but that's the most dignerified
way out of it for you. You can call 'im all sorts of things, and
abuse 'im for the rest of his life. They'll prove themselves guilty by
chucking it away, won't they?"

It really seemed the only thing to be done. The skipper finished his tea
in silence, and then going on deck called the crew aft and apprised
them of his intentions, threatening them with all sorts of pains and
penalties if the treasure about to be confided to their keeping should
be lost. The cook was sent below for it, and, at the skipper's bidding,
handed it to the grinning Joe.

"And mind," said the skipper as he turned away, "I leave it in your
keepin', and if it's missing I shall understand that you've made away
with it, and I shall take it as a sign of guilt, and act according."

The end came sooner even than he expected. They were at breakfast
next morning when Joe, looking somewhat pale, came down to the cabin,
followed by Clark, bearing before him an empty plate.

"Well?" said the skipper fiercely.

"It's about the 'erring, sir," said Joe, twisting his cap between his
hands.

"Well?" roared the skipper again.

"It's gone, sir," said Joe, in bereaved accents.