e a pleasure
trip on a quiet lake.

"What is there to mind," said he, "in a capful of wind? 'Tis sent to
help us on our way; whereas, had we been taken last night where should
we be now? Come, my men, help me shorten sail, for a little will go a
long way a night like this. Maiden, to you I trust the helm with a
light heart. 'Twill tax your strength more to keep her head thus than
to run, as you did last night, clean before the wind; but you are strong
and brave, and teach us to be the same."

The subtlest courtier's speech could not have won her as did these blunt
words. She said no more than "I go, my Captain." But the look of her
eyes as they met his spoke volumes of joy and gratitude, a tithe of
which would have gladdened me for a lifetime.

Then we fell to shortening our canvas--a perilous task. When that was
done, leaving only the topsails spread, Ludar bade us make good the
hatches, and fall to and eat. Which we did, all but the poet, who,
being either big with his ode, or misliking the wildness of the night,
sat idle.

"Come, Sir Popinjay," said Ludar. "Eat, for no man can work on an empty
stomach, and even poetry will not help haul a rope."

"We avoid Scylla, my Captain, only to fall into Charybdis. Methinks
Scylla were the better fate. At least I might have passed this night
recumbent. The eagle, at the day's end, flieth to his nest, and the
lion hath his den; to all toil cometh an evensong, save to the
shuttlecocks of Aeolus."

"Nay, Sir Poet, you did bravely last night. Fall to and eat now, and we
shall see you do more bravely to-night."

"Orpheus, his weapon, is a harp, not a gun. Nevertheless, I am one of
five, and shall yield me to a man's bidding for the sake of her, my
mistress, to whose glory I have this day indited my ode, and into whose
sweet ear I will even now go recite it."

"No, no," said Ludar, "stay here and eat, and then go make a better one
on the starboard bow, with your hand on the forestays, and your eye
seaward."

He obeyed at length and swallowed his supper. Then, lamenting the
maiden's fate at being deprived of his ode, he went gallantly forward.

"There goes a brave man in the garb of a fool," said Ludar. "Humphrey,
in this wind, the maiden will be hard put to it to keep her post on the
poop. 'Twould help her to lash her to her helm. Will you go and do
it?"

"That task belongs to the Captain," said I. "She will suffer it from
you." He smiled at me grim