ul part
was that he heard no orders except an occasional grunt from Troop,
ending with, "That's good, my son!"

"Never seen anchor weighed before?" said Tom Platt, to Harvey gaping at
the damp canvas of the foresail.

"No. Where are we going?"

"Fish and make berth, as you'll find out 'fore you've been a week
aboard. It's all new to you, but we never know what may come to us.
Now, take me--Tom Platt--I'd never ha' thought--"

"It's better than fourteen dollars a month an' a bullet in your belly,"
said Troop, from the wheel. "Ease your jumbo a grind."

"Dollars an' cents better," returned the man-o'-war's man, doing
something to a big jib with a wooden spar tied to it. "But we didn't
think o' that when we manned the windlass-brakes on the Miss Jim Buck,
I outside Beau-fort Harbor, with Fort Macon heavin' hot shot at our
stern, an' a livin' gale atop of all. Where was you then, Disko?"

"Jest here, or hereabouts," Disko replied, "earnin' my bread on the
deep waters, an' dodgin' Reb privateers. Sorry I can't accommodate you
with red-hot shot, Tom Platt; but I guess we'll come aout all right on
wind 'fore we see Eastern Point."

There was an incessant slapping and chatter at the bows now, varied by
a solid thud and a little spout of spray that clattered down on the
foc'sle. The rigging dripped clammy drops, and the men lounged along
the lee of the house--all save Uncle Salters, who sat stiffly on the
main-hatch nursing his stung hands.

"Guess she'd carry stays'l," said Disko, rolling one eye at his brother.

"Guess she wouldn't to any sorter profit. What's the sense o' wastin'
canvas?" the farmer-sailor replied.

The wheel twitched almost imperceptibly in Disko's hands. A few seconds
later a hissing wave-top slashed diagonally across the boat, smote
Uncle Salters between the shoulders, and drenched him from head to
foot. He rose sputtering, and went forward only to catch another.

"See Dad chase him all around the deck," said Dan. "Uncle Salters he
thinks his quarter share's our canvas. Dad's put this duckin' act up on
him two trips runnin'. Hi! That found him where he feeds." Uncle
Salters had taken refuge by the foremast, but a wave slapped him over
the knees. Disko's face was as blank as the circle of the wheel.

"Guess she'd lie easier under stays'l, Salters," said Disko, as though
he had seen nothing.

"Set your old kite, then," roared the victim through a cloud of spray;
"only don't lay it to me if an