e oiled boards.

"Take him into my cabin," ordered Tanner. "Johnson, bring hot water
and rags. Cookee, make some strong soup. If there's any life in him
we'll bring it back. On the jump, there!"

"Wal," said one man, when Code had been carried below, "I thought my
halibut was high line to-day, but the skipper beat me out in the
end."

CHAPTER XVI

A STAGGERING BLOW

"Here is something my father just asked me to give you."

Nellie held out to Code the packet that she had discovered in the
skipper's drawer several days before. Code, seated on the roof of the
cabin in the only loose chair aboard the _Rosan_, and wrapped in
blankets, took the sealed bundle curiously.

He looked at the round, feminine handwriting across the envelope, and
failed to evince any flash of guilt or intelligence.

It was three days after Code's rescue by the _Rosan_ and the first
that he had felt any of his old strength coming back to him.

For the first twenty-four hours after being revived he did nothing but
sleep, and awoke to find Nellie Tanner beside his bunk nursing him.
Since then it had been merely a matter of patience until his exhausted
body had recuperated from the shock.

For once Nellie had command of the _Rosan_, and everything stood aside
for her patient. The delicacies that issued from the galley after she
had occupied it an hour, and that went directly to Code, almost had
the result of inciting a mutiny among all hands; terms of settlement
being the retirement of the old cook and installation of this new
find.

Code ripped open the packet. He stared in amazement at the yellow
bills. Then he discovered the letter and began to read it. Despite the
healthy red of his weather-beaten face, a tide of color surged up over
it.

Nellie turned her head away and looked over the oily gray sea to where
the men of the _Rosan_ were toiling in their dories. In the distance
there was a sail here and there, for the _Rosan_ was slowly
overhauling the fleet from Freekirk Head.

Code stole a swift glance at her, and forgot to read his letter as he
studied the fresh roundness and beauty of her face. He vaguely felt
that there was a reserved manner between them.

"The letter is from Mrs. Mallaby," he said.

"Yes? That is interesting."

The girl's cool, level eyes met his, and he blushed again.

"She has a good heart," he stumbled on, "and always thinks of
others."

"Yes, she has," agreed the girl without enthusiasm, and C