d the boy grow up, he unquestionably knew what he
was about. That there were plenty of other boys at the Harbor to
choose from was certain. If the honor descended to His Highness rest
assured it was not without reason.

Hence Jerry was not only pleased but immensely gratified when on the
morning following Walter rounded the corner of the great barn and
appeared in the doorway.

"I've come to say Yes to that job you offered me the other day,"
announced he, without wasting words on preliminaries.

"Good, youngster!"

"When shall you want me?"

"When can you come?" grinned Jerry.

He was a lank, sharp-featured man with china blue eyes that narrowed
to a mere slit when he smiled, and from the corners of which
crowsfeet, like fan-shaped streaks of light from the rising sun,
radiated across his temples. His skin was tanned to the hue of old
hickory and deep down in its furrows were lines of white. He had a big
nose that was always sunburned, powerful hands with a reddish fuzz on
their backs, and gnarled fingers that bore the scars of innumerable
nautical disasters. But the chief glory he possessed was a neatly
tattooed schooner that sailed under full canvas upon his forearm and
bore beneath it the inscription:

The Mollie D. The finest ship afloat.

The words had been intended as a tribute rather than a challenge for
Jerry was a peaceful soul, but unfortunately they had proved
provocative of many a brawl, and had the truth been known a certain
odd slant of Jerry's chin could have been traced back to this
apparently harmless assertion. Possibly had this mate of the _Mollie
D._ foreseen into what straits his boast was to lead him he might not
have expressed it so baldly in all the naked glory of blue ink; but
with the sentiment once immortalized what choice had he but to defend
it? Therefore, being no coward but a sturdy seaman with a swinging
undercut, he had in times past delivered many a blow in order to
uphold the _Mollie D.'s_ nautical reputation, after which encounters
his challengers were wont to emerge with a more profound respect not
only for the bark but for Jerry Thomas as well.

All that, however, was long ago. Since the great storm of 1890 when so
many ships had perished and the _Mollie D._, bound from Norfolk to
Fairhaven, had gone down with the rest, Jerry had abandoned the sea.
It was not the perils of the deep, nevertheless, that had driven him
landward, or the fear of future disasters; it was o