er handkerchief to her eyes and, with a suspicious
little sniff, hurried from the room. Captain Bligh, much affected,
waited for a few seconds and then went in pursuit of her. Fifteen
minutes later, shorn of his moustache, he stood in the coal-hole, sulkily
smearing himself with coal.

"That's better," said the girl; "you look horrible."

She took up a handful of coal-dust and, ordering him to stoop, shampooed
him with hearty good-will.

[Illustration: "She took up a handful of coal-dust and, ordering him to
stoop, shampooed him with hearty good-will."]

"No good half doing it," she declared. "Now go and look at yourself in
the glass in the kitchen."

The skipper went, and came back in a state of wild-eyed misery. Even
Miss Pilbeam's statement that his own mother would not know him failed to
lift the cloud from his brow. He stood disconsolate as the girl opened
the front door.

"Good-by," she said, gently. "Write and tell me when you are safe."

Captain Bligh promised, and walked slowly up the road. So far from
people attempting to arrest him, they vied with each other in giving him
elbow-room. He reached the harbor unmolested, and, lurking at a
convenient corner, made a careful survey. A couple of craft were working
out their coal, a small steamer was just casting loose, and a fishing-
boat gliding slowly over the still water to its berth. His own schooner,
which lay near the colliers, had apparently knocked off work pending his
arrival. For Sergeant Pilbeam he looked in vain.

He waited a minute or two, and then, with a furtive glance right and
left, strolled in a careless fashion until he was abreast of one of the
colliers. Nobody took any notice of him, and, with his hands in his
pockets, he gazed meditatively into the water and edged along towards his
own craft. His foot trembled as he placed it on the plank that formed
the gangway, but, resisting the temptation to look behind, he gained the
deck and walked forward.

"Halloa! What do you want?" inquired a sea-man, coming out of the
galley.

"All right, Bill," said the skipper, in a low voice. "Don't take any
notice of me."

"Eh?" said the seaman, starting. "Good lor'! What ha' you----"

"Shut up!" said the skipper, fiercely; and, walking to the forecastle,
placed his hand on the scuttle and descended with studied slowness. As
he reached the floor the perturbed face of Bill blocked the opening.

"Had an accident, cap'n?" he inquire