along under
shortened sail. The weather was thick, the air dense; there was a
falling barometer.

It had been a short trip this time. Leroy and Sons, wine merchants of
Havre, had made better offers than the old houses in Bordeaux. At each
one of his later trips, Captain Spang had said it should be his last.
He would "lay up" at home; he was growing too stout and clumsy for the
sea, and now he must trust fully to Toennes, his first mate. The
captain's big broad face was flushed as usual; he always looked as if
he were illuminated by a setting October sun; there was no change
here--rather, the sunset tint was stronger. But Toennes noted how the
features, which he knew best in moments of simple good-nature and of
sullen tumult, had gradually relaxed. He thought that it would indeed
soon be time for his old skipper to "lay up"; yet perhaps a few trips
might still be made.

"Holloa, Toennes! let her go about before the next squall strikes her.
She lies too dead on this bow."

The skipper had raised his head above the cabin stairs. As usual, he
was in his shirt-sleeves, and his scanty hair fluttered in the wind.
When he had warned his mate, he again disappeared in the cabin.

Toennes gave the order to the man at the helm, and hurried to help at
the main-braces. The double-reefed main-topsail swung about, the Anna
Dorothea caught the wind somewhat sluggishly, and not without getting
considerable water over her; then followed the fore-topsail, the
reefed foresail, and the trysail. When the tacking was finished and
the sails had again caught the wind, the trysail was torn from the
boltropes with a loud crack.

The captain's head appeared again,

"We must close-reef!" said he.

The last reef was taken in; the storm came down and lashed the sea;
the sky grew more and more threatening; the waves dashed over the deck
at each plunge of the old bark in the sea. The old vessel, which had
carried her captain for a generation, lay heavily on the water--Toennes
thought too heavily.

The second mate--the same who had played the accordion at the
inn--came over to Toennes.

"It was wrong to stow the china-clay at the bottom and the casks on
top; she lies horribly dead, and I'm afraid we shall have to use the
pumps."

"Yes, I said so to the old man, but he would have it that way,"
answered Toennes. "We shall have a wet night."

"We shall, surely," said the second mate.

Toennes crawled up to the helm and looked at the compas