and flashing wet gleams as
she rolled. Her men were rigging a ladder over the side.

"I want to say whilst we're here together and there's time to say it,"
announced Captain Candage, "that we are one and all mighty much obliged
for that invite you gave us to come aboard the yacht, sir, and we all
know that if--well, if things had been different from what they was you
would have used us all right. And what I might say about yachts and the
kind of critters that own 'em I ain't a-going to say."

"You are improving right along, father," observed Polly Candage, dryly.

"Still, I have my own idees on the subject. But that's neither here nor
there. You're a native and I'm a native, and I want ye should just look
at that face leaning over the lee rail, there, and then say that now we
know that we're among real friends."

It was a rubicund and welcoming countenance under the edge of a rusty
black oilskin sou'wester hat, and the man was manifestly the skipper.
Every once in a while he flourished his arm encouragingly.

"Hearty welcome aboard the _Reuben and Esther_," he called out when the
tender swung to the foot of the ladder. "What schooner is she, there?"

"Poor old _Polly_," stated the master, first up the ladder. In his haste
to greet the fishing-skipper he left his daughter to the care of Captain
Mayo.

"That's too bad--too bad!" clucked the fishing-skipper, full measure of
sympathy in his demeanor. "She was old, but she was able, sir!"

"And here's another poor Polly," stated Captain Candage. "I was fool
enough to take her out of a good home for a trip to sea."

The skipper ducked salute. "Make yourself to home, miss. Go below. House
is yours!"

Then the schooner lurched away on her shoreward tack, and the insolent
yacht marched off down across the shimmering waves.

Mayo shook hands with the solicitous fisherman in rather dreamy and
indifferent fashion. He realized that he was faint with hunger, but he
refused to eat. Fatigue and grief demanded their toll in more imperious
fashion than hunger. He lay down in the sun in the lee alley, put his
head on his crossed arms, and blessed sleep blotted out his bitter
thoughts.

XI ~ A VOICE FROM HUE AND CRY

But when the money's all gone and spent,
And there's none to be borrowed and none to be lent,
In comes old Grouchy with a frown,
Saying, "Get up, Jack, let John sit down."
For it's now we're outward bound,
Hu