ay, where the dinghy, lashed upside down on the house, hid
him from view.

The girl approached the man at the wheel.

"I saw you fall, Mr. Owen," she said in a trembling voice, "and I could
not help screaming. Were you hurt much?"

"No, Miss Folsom," he answered in a low though not a steady tone; "but
I was sadly disappointed."

"I confess I was nervous--very nervous--when you went aloft," she said;
"and I cleared away the life-buoy. Then, when you fell, it slipped out
of my hand and went overboard. Mr. Adams scolded me. Wasn't it
ridiculous?" There were tears and laughter in the speech.

"Not at all," he said gravely; "it saved my life--for which I thank
you."

"How--why----"

"Who in Sam Hill's been casting off these gripe-lashings?" growled the
voice of the mate behind the dinghy.

The girl tittered hysterically, and stepped beside Owen at the wheel,
where she patted the moving spokes, pretending to assist him in
steering.

"Miss Freda," said the officer, sternly, as he came around the corner
of the house, "I must ask you plainly to let things alone; and another
thing, please don't talk to the man at the wheel."

"Will you please mind your own business?" she almost screamed; and
then, crying and laughing together: "If you paid as much attention to
your work as you do to--to--me, men wouldn't fall from aloft on account
of rotten foot-ropes."

The abashed officer went forward, grumbling about "discipline" and
"women aboard ship." When he was well out of sight in the darkness, the
girl turned suddenly, passed both arms around Owen's neck, exerted a
very slight pressure, patted him playfully on the shoulder as she
withdrew them, and sped down the companionway.

He steered a wild course during that trick, and well deserved the
profane criticism which he received from the mate.

NEEDS MUST WHEN THE DEVIL DRIVES

Hogged at bow and stern, her deck sloped at the ends like a truck's
platform, while a slight twist in the old hull canted the foremast to
port and the mizzen to starboard. It would be hard to know when she was
on an even keel. The uneven planking, inboard and out, was scarred like
a chopping-block, possibly from a former and intimate acquaintance with
the coal trade. Aloft were dingy gray spars, slack hemp rigging,
untarred for years, and tan-colored sails, mended with patch upon patch
of lighter-hued canvas that seemed about to fall apart from their own
weight. She was English-built, bar