g on the ebb, they got under way again, the girl coming on deck
fully attired in an oilskin coat and sou'-wester to resume the command.
The rain fell steadily as they ploughed along their way, guided by the
bright eye of the "Mouse" as it shone across the darkening waters. The
mate, soaked to the skin, was at the wheel.

"Why don't you go below and put your oilskins on?" inquired the girl,
when this fact dawned upon her.

"Don't want 'em," said the mate.

"I suppose you know best," said the girl, and said no more until nine
o'clock, when she paused at the companion to give her last orders for
the night.

"I'm going to turn in," said she; "call me at two o'clock. Good-night."

"Good-night," said the other, and the girl vanished.

Left to himself, the mate, who began to feel chilly, felt in his pockets
for a pipe, and was in all the stress of getting a light, when he heard
a thin, almost mild voice behind him, and, looking round, saw the face
of the girl at the companion.

"I say, are these your oilskins I've been wearing?" she demanded
awkwardly.

"You're quite welcome," said the mate.

"Why didn't you tell me?" said the girl indignantly. "I wouldn't have
worn them for anything if I had known it."

"Well, they won't poison you," said the mate resentfully. "Your father
left his at Ipswich to have 'em cobbled up a bit."

The girl passed them up on the deck, and, closing the companion with a
bang, disappeared. It is possible that the fatigues of the day had been
too much for her, for when she awoke, and consulted the little silver
watch that hung by her bunk, it was past five o'clock, and the red glow
of the sun was flooding the cabin as she arose and hastily dressed.

The deck was drying in white patches as she went above, and the mate was
sitting yawning at the wheel, his eyelids red for want of sleep.

"Didn't I tell you to call me at two o'clock?" she demanded, confronting
him.

"It's all right," said the mate. "I thought when you woke would be soon
enough. You looked tired."

"I think you'd better go when we get to Ipswich," said the girl,
tightening her lips. "I'll ship somebody who'll obey orders."

"I'll go when we get back to London," said the mate. "I'll hand this
barge over to the cap'n, and nobody else."

"Well, we'll see," said the girl, as she took the wheel, "_I_ think
you'll go at Ipswich."

For the remainder of the voyage the subject was not alluded to; the
mate, in a spirit of sulky