Waterford,
under any circumstances."

"I certainly would not," answered Marian.

"Exactly so; I don't wish to do anything to interfere with Ben's plans,
for he is a good fellow. We started from Chicago with the intention of
having a wedding, and I think we ought to carry out the programme,"
laughed the skipper. "You are a very pretty girl, Miss Collingsby. As
the son-in-law of your father, I think I could make a favorable
settlement with him. I am only twenty-seven."

"You have said enough, sir," replied she, indignantly.

"Don't be hasty, my pretty one. If you will do me the honor to become
Mrs. Whippleton, it will make everything all right; and really I don't
know what else to do with you."

"Don't listen to him, Marian," I interposed, in a low tone. "Go into
the cabin, and keep out of his sight."

"This plan will make everything comfortable, Miss Collingsby. Your
father will see that he is mistaken, and the business of the firm will
go on as usual, with your friend Phil as book-keeper at a thousand
dollars a year. Will you accept?"

"No, sir."

"No?"

"Certainly not."

"Then I suppose I may as well make an end of Phil. He is only a
stumbling-block in my path," added the wretch, cocking his pistol.

"Gorrificious!" exclaimed Peter, appearing at the companion-way at this
moment, so opportunely as to indicate that he had been listening to the
conversation. "What you goin' to do with that rewolver, Mr.
Whippleton?"

"Go into the cook-room, and mind your business there, you scoundrel,"
said the skipper, angrily, as he pointed the pistol at the cook.

"Gorrificious!" muttered the man, as he disappeared.

Marian, indignant at the proposal of Mr. Whippleton, followed the cook,
and I was alone with my persecutor. The skipper laid his revolver upon
the rudder-head, as though the end of the sensation had come for the
present. I was left to my own suffering for the next two hours. Mr.
Whippleton sat at the helm in silence, perhaps brooding upon the plan
his busy brain had devised. Occasionally he raised the whiskey bottle
to his lips, and drank. I was afraid that his frequent drams would
arouse the fiend within him, and induce him to use his revolver upon
me. He was intoxicated, and violently irritated against me. My anxiety
for my fate was so great that I almost forgot my aching head and
painful limbs. I kept very still. No one had thought to give me any
breakfast; but I did not feel the need of it, though a