he water too soon, missed the crossin', and we
jest drifted back home ag'in. The horse had more sense than I did. We
found him in the barn waiting for us."

Abner Mayo had piled against the back of his barn a great heap of damp
seaweed that he intended using in the spring as a fertilizer. The fire
had burned until it reached this seaweed and then had gone no further.
The rain extinguished the last spark.

"Well, by mighty!" exclaimed Captain Perez for at least the tenth time,
as he sat in the kitchen, wrapped in an old ulster of Mr. Mayo's, and
toasting his feet in the oven, "if I don't feel like a fool. All that
scare and wet for nothin'."

"Oh, not for nothin', Perez," said Miss Patience, looking tenderly down
into his face.

"Well, no, not for nothin' by a good deal! I've got you by it, and
that's everything. But say, Pashy!" and the Captain looked awed by the
coincidence, "I went through fire and water to git you!"

CHAPTER XVIII

THE SINS OF CAPTAIN JERRY

Captain Perez made a clean breast of it to Captain Eri when he reached
home that night. It was after twelve o'clock, but he routed his friend
out of bed to tell him the news and the story. Captain Eri was not as
surprised to hear of the engagement as he pretended to be, for he had
long ago made up his mind that Perez meant business this time. But the
tale of the fire and the voyage in the carryall tickled him immensely,
and he rolled back and forth in the rocker and laughed until his side
ached.

"I s'pose it does sound kind of ridic'lous," said the accepted suitor in
a rather aggrieved tone, "but it wa'n't ha'f so funny when 'twas goin'
on. Fust I thought I'd roast to death, then I thought I'd freeze, and
then I thought I'd drown."

"Perez," said the panting Eri, "you're a wonder. I'm goin' to tell Sol
Bangs 'bout you next time I see him. He'll want you to enter in the
races next Fourth of July. We've had tub races and the like of that, but
a carryall sailin' match 'll be somethin' new. I'll back you against the
town, though. You can count on me."

"Now, look here, Eri Hedge, if you tell a livin' soul 'bout it, I'll--"

"All right, shipmate, all right; but it's too good to keep. You ought
to write a book, one of them kind like Josiah used to read. Call it
'The Carryall Pirate, or The Terror of the Channel,' hey? Gee! you'd be
famous! But, say, old man," he added more seriously, "I'll shake hands
with you. I b'lieve you've got a good woman, on