full purses that the generosity of
their employers had provided, and there was no longer any doubt as to
the future of the men who once starved on Hue and Cry.

Captain Mayo had declared that he knew where to find faithful workers
when it came time to distribute jobs.

Polly Candage had come to him when he stepped foot on shore, hands
outstretched to him, and eyes alight. And when she put her hands in his
he knew, in his soul, that this was the greeting he had been waiting
for; her words of congratulation were the dearest of all, her smile was
the best reward, and for her dear self he had been hungry.

But he would not admit to himself that he had come to woo.

When the soft dusk had softened the harsh outlines of the little hamlet,
and the others were busy with their own affairs and had left Mayo
and Polly to themselves, he sat with her on the porch of the widow's
cottage, where they spent that first evening after they had been saved
from the sea.

There had been a long silence between them. "We have had no
opportunity--I have not dared yet to tell you my best hopes for the
dearest thing of all," she ventured.

"The one up inland. I know. I am glad for you."

"What one up inland?"

"That young man--the only young man in all the world."

"Oh yes! I had forgotten."

He stared at her. "Forgotten?"

"Why--why--I don't exactly mean forgotten. But I was not thinking about
him when I spoke. I mean that now--with your new prospects--you can go
to--to--There may come a time when you can speak to Mr. Marston."

"I have spoken to Mr. Marston, quite lately. He has spoken to me," he
said, his face hard. "We shall never speak to each other again, if I can
have my way."

He met her astonished gaze. "Polly, I hate to trouble you with my poor
affairs of this kind. I can talk of business to Mr. Vose, and of the
sea to your father. But there's another matter that I can't mention
to anybody--except you will listen. I will tell you where I saw Mr.
Marston--and his daughter."

She listened, her lips apart.

"So, you see," he said at the end, "it was worse than a dream; it was
a mistake. It couldn't have been real love, for it was not built on the
right foundation. I have never had much experience with girls. I have
been swashing about at sea 'most all my life. Perhaps I don't know what
real love is. But it seems to me it can't amount to much unless it is
built up on mutual understanding, willingness to sacrifice for each