needing no other assurance of Sailor
Ben's faithfulness.

When his hour had expired, we walked with him down to the wharf, where
the Captain held a consultation with the mate, which resulted in an
extension of Mr. Watson's leave of absence, and afterwards in his
discharge from his ship. We then went to the "Mariner's Home" to engage
a room for him, as he wouldn't hear of accepting the hospitalities of
the Nutter House.

"You see, I'm only an uneddicated man," he remarked to my grandfather,
by way of explanation.

Chapter Sixteen--In Which Sailor Ben Spins a Yarn

Of course we were all very curious to learn what had befallen Sailor
Ben that morning long ago, when he bade his little bride goodby and
disappeared so mysteriously.

After tea, that same evening, we assembled around the table in the
kitchen--the only place where Sailor Ben felt at home--to hear what he
had to say for himself.

The candles were snuffed, and a pitcher of foaming nut-brown ale was
set at the elbow of the speaker, who was evidently embarrassed by the
respectability of his audience, consisting of Captain Nutter, Miss
Abigail, myself, and Kitty, whose face shone with happiness like one of
the polished tin platters on the dresser.

"Well, my hearties," commenced Sailor Ben--then he stopped short and
turned very red, as it struck him that maybe this was not quite the
proper way to address a dignitary like the Captain and a severe elderly
lady like Miss Abigail Nutter, who sat bolt upright staring at him as
she would have stared at the Tycoon of Japan himself.

"I ain't much of a hand at spinnin' a yarn," remarked Sailor Ben,
apologetically, "'specially when the yarn is all about a man as has
made a fool of hisself, an' 'specially when that man's name is Benjamin
Watson."

"Bravo!" cried Captain Nutter, rapping on the table encouragingly.

"Thankee, sir, thankee. I go back to the time when Kitty an' me was
livin' in lodgin's by the dock in New York. We was as happy, sir, as two
porpusses, which they toil not neither do they spin. But when I seed the
money gittin' low in the locker--Kitty's starboard stockin', savin' your
presence, marm--I got down-hearted like, seem' as I should be obleeged
to ship agin, for it didn't seem as I could do much ashore. An' then the
sea was my nat'ral spear of action. I wasn't exactly born on it, look
you, but I fell into it the fust time I was let out arter my birth. My
mother slipped her cable for a