chor in the middle of it.'

"'But what'll we do?' shouts Zach. 'Can't nobody say somethin' to DO?'

"'Tell you I smell home,' says Nat, calm and chipper, 'and I'd know that
smell if I met it in Jericho. Ha! there she deepens again. That was the
bar and we're over it.'

"The wind had gone down to a stiff sailin' breeze, and the old Debby S.
slapped along afore it. Sometimes there was twelve foot under her keel
and sometimes eight or nine. Once 'twas only seven and a half. Zach and
'Bije both looked at each other, but Nat only smiled.

"'Oh, you can laugh!' hollers Zach. ''Tain't your vessel you're runnin'
into danger. YOU aint paid out your good money--'

"Nat never answered; but he stopped smilin'.

"And all to once the water deepened. Hammond swung her up into the wind.

"'NOW you can anchor,' says he.

"'And 'bout time, too, I guess,' says 'Bije. 'I cal'late the skipper's
right. This IS Horsefoot and we're right between the shoals. Yes, sir,
and I hear breakers. Lively there!'

"They hove over the mudhook and dropped the sails. Nat shook his head.

"'Breakers or not,' says he, 'I tell you I've smelt home for the last
half hour. Now, by the jumpin' Moses, I can TASTE it!'

"And inside of a couple of shakes come the rain. It poured for a while
and then the fog cleared. Right acrost their bows was Trumet, with the
town clock strikin' ten. Over the flat place between the hills they
could see the light on the ocean side. And they was anchored right
in the deep hole inside the breakwater, as sure as I'm knee high to a
marlin spike!

"'Bije just stared at Hammond with his mouth open.

"'Nat,' says he, 'you're a seaman, if I do say it. I thought I was a
pretty good bay pilot, but I can't steer a vessel without a compass
through a night as black as Pharaoh's Egypt, and in a thick fog besides,
and land her square on top of her moorin's. If my hat wa'n't sloshin'
around thirty mile astern, I snum if I wouldn't take it off to you this
minute!'

"'Nat,' stammers Zach, 'I must say I--'

"Nat snapped him shut like a tobacco box. 'You needn't,' says he. 'But
I'll say this to you, Zach Foster. When I undertake to handle a vessel
I handle her best I know how, and the fact that I don't own her makes no
difference to me. You just put that down somewheres so you won't forget
it.'

"And this mornin'," crowed Captain Zebedee, concluding his long yarn,
"after that, mind you, that lubber Zach Foster is around town tellin'