ems to be up to me--to us, I mean," he told the girl, ruefully,
when they were on their way to the widow's cottage that evening. "It's
up to me most of all, however, for I'm the guilty party--I have pulled
you and your father in. I'm pegged in here till I can think up some sort
of a scheme."

She had been working all day faithfully by his side, a tactful and
indefatigable helper. He would have been all at sea regarding the women
and children without her aid, and he told her so gratefully.

"Both my hands and my heart are with you in this thing, Captain Mayo.
And I know you'll think of some way out for them--just as you helped us
out of the schooner after we had given up all hope."

"Getting out of the schooner was merely a sailor's trick of the hands,
Miss Candage. I don't believe I'll be much of a hand at making over
human nature. I have too much of it myself, and the material down in
that fish-house would puzzle even a doctor of divinity."

"Oh, you will think of some plan," she assured him-with fine loyalty.
"If you will allow me to help in my poor way I'll be proud."

"I'll not tell you what I think of your help; it might sound like soft
talk. But let me tell you that you have one grand old dad!" he declared,
earnestly; but although he tried to keep his face straight and his tones
steady he looked down at her and immediately lost control of himself.
Merriment was mingled with tears in her eyes.

"Isn't he funny?" she gasped, and they halted in their tracks and
laughed in chorus with the whole-hearted fervor of youth; that laughter
relieved the strain of that anxious day.

"I am not laughing _at_ your father--you understand that!" he assured
her.

"Of course, you are not! I know. But you are getting to understand him,
just as I understand him. He is only a big child under all his bluster.
But he does make me so angry sometimes!"

"You can't tell much about a Yankee till he comes out of his shell, and
I agree with you as to the aggravating qualities in Captain Candage. I'm
not very patient myself, when I'm provoked! But after this he and I will
get along all right."

They walked on to the cottage.

"Good night," he said at the door.

"And you have no plan as yet?"

"Maybe something will come to me in a dream."

The dream did not come to him, for his sleep was the profound slumber of
exhaustion. He went down in the early dawn and plunged into the sea, and
while he was walking back toward the cottage an