nd keep," answered Dan.

"That ain't no sort of pay," said the other, gruffly.

"Wait till you see me eat," laughed Dan; "besides, I was never a second
mate before. Maybe I won't make good at it."

"Mebbe you won't," said Captain Jeb, his mouth stretching into its crooked
smile. "You're ruther young for it, I must admit. Still, I like your grit
and pluck, younker. Most chaps like you are ready to suck at anything in
reach. What's your name?"

"Dan--Dan Dolan," was the answer.

"Good!" said Captain Jeb. "It's a square, honest name. You're shipped, Dan
Dolan. I guess thar ain't no need for signing papers. This little chap
will bear witness. You're shipped as second mate in the 'Lady Jane' now
and here."

XII.--THE SECOND MATE.--A CONFAB.

Then Neb's bell clanged out for dinner, that was served on the long table
in the cabin, shipshape, but without any of the frills used on land. There
was a deep earthen dish brimming with chowder, a wonderful concoction that
only old salts like Neb can make. It had a bit of everything within
Killykinick reach--clams and fish and pork and potatoes, onions and
peppers and hard-tack,--all simmering together, piping hot, in a most
appetizing way, even though it had to be "doused" out with a tin ladle
into yellow bowls. There was plenty of good bread, thick and "filling"; a
platter of bacon and greens, and a dish of rice curried after a fashion
Neb had learned cruising in the China Sea. Last of all, and borne in
triumphantly by the cook himself, was a big smoking "plum duff" with cream
sauce. There is a base imitation of "duff" known to landsmen as batter
pudding; but the real plum duff of shining golden yellow, stuffed full of
plums like Jack Horner's pie, is all the sailor's own.

Dan plunged at once into his new duties of second mate. Both Jeb and Neb
were well past seventy, and, while still hale and hearty, were not so
nimble as they had been forty years ago; so a second mate, with light feet
and deft hands, proved most helpful, now that the "Lady Jane" had taken in
a double crew.

Dan cleared the table and washed the dishes with a celerity bewildering to
the slow brain dulled by the marline spike. He swabbed up the galley under
Neb's gruff direction; he fed the chickens and milked the cow. For a brief
space in two summers of his early life, Dan had been borne off by an Angel
Guardian Society to its Fresh Air Home, a plain, old-fashioned farmhouse
some miles from his nati