unt put out from a stage up alongshore, an'
come down with the water curlin' from her bows.

"'What's the meanin' o' that, Docks?' sings the skipper, pointin' t' the
punt. 'They're goin' out o' the course t' keep t' win'ard.'

"'Skipper Jim,' says I, 'they knows us.'

"'Sink us,' says he, 'they does! They knows what we is an' what we got
for'ard. Bring her to!' he sings out t' the man at the wheel.

"When we had the schooner up in the wind, the punt was bobbin' in the
lop off the quarter.

"'What ship's that?' says the man in the bow.

"'_Sink or Swim_,' says the skipper.

"'You get out o' here, curse you!' says the man. 'We don't want you
here. They's news o' you in every port o' the coast.'

"'I'll bide here 'til I'm ready t' go, sink you!' says the skipper.

"'Oh, no, you won't!' says the man. 'I've a gun or two that says you'll
be t' sea agin in half an hour if the wind holds.'

"So when we was well out t' sea agin, the cook he says t' me that he've
a wonderful fondness for a run ashore in a friendly port, but he've no
mind t' be shot for a mad dog. 'An' we better bide aboard,' says the
second hand; 'for 'tis like we'll be took for mad dogs wherever we tries
t' land.' Down went the skipper, staggerin' sick; an' they wasn't a man
among us would put a head in the forecastle t' ask for orders. So we
beat about for a day or two in a foolish way; for, look you! havin' in
mind them Rocky Harbour rifles, we didn't well know what t' do. Three
days ago it blew up black an' frothy--a nor'east switcher, with a
rippin' wind an' a sea o' mountains. 'Twas no place for a short-handed
schooner. Believe _me_, sir, 'twas no place at all! 'Twas time t' run
for harbour, come what might; so we asked the cook t' take charge. The
cook says t' me that he'd rather be a cook than a skipper, an' a skipper
than a ship's undertaker, but he've no objection t' turn his hand t'
anything t' 'blige a party o' friends: which he'll do, says he, by
takin' the schooner t' Broad Cove o' the Harbourless Shore, which is a
bad shelter in a nor'east gale, says he, but the best he can manage.

"So we up an' laid a course for Broad Cove; an' they was three schooners
harboured there when we run in. We anchored well outside o' them; an',
sure, we thought the schooner was safe, for we knowed she'd ride out
what was blowin', if it took so much as a week t' blow out. But it
blowed harder--harder yet: a thick wind, squally, too, blowin' dead on
shore, wh