or a
man t' do in a case like this. Get the jib up, b'y. I'm goin' aft t' the
wheel. Let the anchor chain run out when you sees me wave my hand. See,
lad,' says he, pointin' t' leeward, 'they're waitin', aboard that
fishin' craft, t' see what we'll do. We'll show un that we're men!
Jagger be damned,' says he; 'we'll show un that we're men! Call the
hands,' says he; 'but leave Tommy Mib lie quiet in his bunk,' says he,
'for he's dead.'

"'Skipper Jim,' says I, lookin' in his blood-red eyes, an' then t' the
breakers, 'what you goin' t' do?'

"'Beach her,' says he.

"'Is you gone an' forgot,' says I, 'about Jagger?'

"'Never you mind about Jagger, Docks,' says he. 'I'll see _him_,' says
he, 'later. Call the hands,' says he, 'an' we'll wreck her like men!'"

Docks covered his face with his hands. Place was once more given to the
noises of the gale. He looked up--broken, listless; possessed again by
the mood of that time.

"An' what did _you_ say, lad?" Skipper Billy whispered.

"I hadn't no objection," sighed the lad.

The answer was sufficient.

* * * * *

"So I called the hands," Docks went on. "An' when the second hand
cotched sight o' the rocks we was bound for, he went mad, an' tumbled
over the taffrail; an' the cook was so weak a lurch o' the ship flung
him after the second hand afore we reached the breakers. I never seed
Skipper Jim no more; nor the cook, nor the second hand, nor poor Tommy
Mib. But I'm glad the Lord God A'mighty give Jim the chance t' die
right, though he'd lived wrong. Oh, ay! I'm fair glad the good Lord done
that. The Labradormen give us a cheer when the chain went rattlin' over
an' the _Sink or Swim_ gathered way--a cheer, sir, that beat its way
agin the wind--God bless them!--an' made me feel that in the end I was
a man agin. She went t' pieces when she struck," he added, as if in
afterthought; "but I'm something of a hand at swimmin', an' I got ashore
on a bit o' spar. An' then I come down the coast 'til I found you lyin'
here in the lee o' Saul's Island." After a pause, he said hoarsely, to
Skipper Billy: "They had the smallpox at Tops'l Cove, says you? They got
it yet at Smith's Arm? At Harbour Rim an' Highwater Cove they been
dyin'? How did they die at Seldom Cove? Like flies, says you? An' one
was a kid?"

"_My_ kid," said Skipper Billy, quietly still.

"My God!" cried Docks. "_His_ kid! How does that there song go? What
about they lakes o' fir