dily, occasionally looking up and chirping with a pair of ravishing
lips at a blackbird, which hung in a wicker cage from the mainmast.

"That's a nice bird," said the mate, leaning against the side, and
turning a look of great admiration upon it.

"Yes," said the girl, raising a pair of dark blue eyes to the bold brown
ones, and taking him in at a glance.

"Does it sing?" inquired the mate, with a show of great interest.

"It does sometimes, when we are alone," was the reply.

"I should have thought the sea air would have affected its throat," said
the mate, reddening. "Are you often in the London river, miss? I don't
remember seeing your craft before."

"Not often," said the girl.

"You've got a fine schooner here," said the mate, eyeing it critically.
"For my part, I prefer a sailer to a steamer."

"I should think you would," said the girl.

"Why?" inquired the mate tenderly, pleased at this show of interest.

"No propeller," said the girl quietly, and she left her seat and
disappeared below, leaving the mate gasping painfully.

Left to himself, he became melancholy, as he realised that the great
passion of his life had commenced, and would probably end within a few
hours. The engineer came aboard to look at the fires, and, the steamer
being now on the soft mud, good-naturedly went down and assisted him
to free the propeller before going ashore again. Then he was alone once
more, gazing ruefully at the bare deck of the Aquila.

It was past two o'clock in the afternoon before any signs of life other
than the blackbird appeared there. Then the girl came on deck again,
accompanied by a stout woman of middle age, and an appearance so affable
that the mate commenced at once.

"Fine day," he said pleasantly, as he brought up in front of them.

"Lovely weather," said the mother, settling herself in her chair and
putting down her work ready for a chat. "I hope the wind lasts; we start
to-morrow morning's tide. You'll get off this afternoon, I s'pose."

"About five o'clock," said the mate.

"I should like to try a steamer for a change," said the mother, and
waxed garrulous on sailing craft generally, and her own in particular.

"There's five of us down there, with my husband and the two boys," said
she, indicating the cabin with her thumb; "naturally it gets rather
stuffy."

The mate sighed. He was thinking that under some conditions there were
worse things than stuffy cabins.

"And Nancy's so discontent