vor the kind of people that live on them."

"What is the difference between these lonely islanders and Yorkshire men
like you and me?"

"There is a good bit of difference, in more ways than one, sir. For
instance, they aren't fashionable. The women mostly dress the same, and
there are no stylish shapes in the men's 'oils' and guernseys. Then,
they call no man 'master.' God is their employer, and from His hand they
take their daily bread. And they don't set themselves up against Him,
and grumble about their small wages and their long hours. And if the
weather is bad, and they are kept off a sea that no boat could live in,
they don't grumble like Yorkshire men do, when warehouses are
overstocked and trade nowhere, and employers hev to make shorter hours
and less pay."

"What then?"

"The men smoke a few more pipes, and the women spin a few more hanks of
wool. And in the long evenings there's a good bit of violin-playing and
reciting, but there's no murmuring against their Great Master. And
there's no drinking, or dance halls. And when the storm is over, the men
untie their boats with a shout and the women gladly clean up the stour
of the idle time."

"Did you ever see a Yorkshire strike?"

"To be sure I hev; I had my say at the Hatton strike, I hed that! You
were at college then, and your father was managing it, so we could not
take the yacht out as expected, and I run down to Hatton to hev a talk
with Stephen Hatton. There was a big strike meeting that afternoon, and
I went and listened to the men stating 'their grievances.' They talked a
lot of nonsense, and I told them so. 'Get all you can rightly,' I said,
'but don't expect Stephen Hatton or any other cotton lord to run
factories for fun. They won't do it, and you wouldn't do it yersens!'"

"Did they talk sensibly?"

"They talked foolishness and believed it, too. It was fair capping to
listen to them. There was some women present, slatterns all, and I told
them to go home and red up their houses and comb up their hair, and try
to look like decent cotton-spinners' wives. And when this advice was
cheered, the women began to get excited, and I thought I would be safer
in Hatton Hall. Women are queer creatures."

"Were you ever married, Captain?"

"Not to any woman. My ship is my wife. She's father and mother and
brother and sister to me. I have no kin, and when I see how much trouble
kin can give you, I don't feel lonely. The ship I sail--whatever her
name--