ce
thief who's doin' this."

"Amos," said Martin to the ex-engineer, "you try an' 'member all you
forgot 'bout ingines in case anything happens to de crew o' dat
steamer; an', Elisha, you want to keep good track o' where we go, so's
you kin find you' way back."

"I'll get the chronometer on deck now. I can take sights alone."

They took the cable to the windlass-barrel and began to heave. It was
hard work,--equal to heaving an anchor against a strong head wind and
ten-knot tideway,--and only half the crew could find room on the
windlass-brakes; so, while the first shift labored and swore and
encouraged one another, the rest watched the approach of a small tug
towing a couple of scows, which seemed to have arisen out of the sea
ahead of them. When the steamer was nearly upon her, she let go her
tow-line and ranged up alongside, while a man leaning out of the
pilot-house gesticulated to the steamer's bridge and finally shook his
fist. Then the tug dropped back abreast of the schooner. She was a
dingy little boat, the biggest and brightest of her fittings being the
name-board on her pilot-house, which spelled in large gilt letters the
appellation _J. C. Hawks_.

"Say," yelled her captain from his door, "I'm blown out wi' my barges,
short o' grub an' water. Can you gi' me some? That lime-juice sucker
ahead won't."

"Can you tow us to New York?" asked Elisha, who had brought up the
chronometer and placed it on the house, ready to take morning sights
for his longitude if the sun should appear.

"No; not unless I sacrifice the barges an' lose my contract wi' the
city. They're garbage-scows, an' I haven't power enough to hook on to
another. Just got coal enough to get in."

"An' what do you call this--a garbage-scow?" answered Elisha,
ill-naturedly. "We've got no grub or water to spare. We've got troubles
of our own."

"Dammit, man, we're thirsty here. Give us a breaker o' water. Throw it
overboard; I'll get it."

"No; told you we have none to spare; an' we're bein' yanked out to
sea."

"Well, gi' me a bottleful; that won't hurt you."

"No; sheer off. Git out o' this. We're not in the Samaritan business."

A forceful malediction came from the tug captain, and a whirling
monkey-wrench from the hand of the engineer, who had listened from the
engine-room door. It struck Elisha's chronometer and knocked it off the
house, box and all, into the sea. He answered the profanity in kind,
and sent an iron belaying-pin at