me git
sort of used to it."

So they shook hands and Captain Eri, with a troubled look at his friend,
went out. After he had gone, Captain Jerry got up and danced three steps
of an improvised jig, his face one broad grin. Then, with an effort, he
sobered down, assumed an air of due solemnity, and tramped downstairs.

If the announcement of Captain Perez' engagement caused no surprise,
that of Captain Eri's certainly did--surprise and congratulation on the
part of those let into the secret, for it was decided to say nothing to
outsiders as yet. Ralph came over that evening and they told him about
it, and he was as pleased as the rest. As for the Captain, he was only
too willing to shake hands with any and everybody, although he insisted
that the housekeeper had nothing to be congratulated upon, and that she
was "takin' big chances." The lady herself merely smiled at this, and
quietly said that she was willing to take them.

The storm had wrecked every wire and stalled every train, and Orham was
isolated for two days. Then communication was established once more, and
the Boston dailies received the news of the loss of the life-savers
and the crew of the schooner. And they made the most of it; sensational
items were scarce just then, and the editors welcomed this one. The
big black headlines spread halfway across the front pages. There were
pictures of the wreck, "drawn by our artist from description," and
there were "descriptions" of all kinds. Special reporters arrived in
the village and interviewed everyone they could lay hands on. Abner Mayo
felt that for once he was receiving the attention he deserved.

The life-saving station and the house by the shore were besieged by
photographers and newspaper men. Captain Eri indignantly refused to pose
for his photograph, so he was "snapped" as he went out to the barn, and
had the pleasure of seeing a likeness of himself, somewhat out of focus,
and with one leg stiffly elevated, in the Sunday Blanket. The reporters
waylaid him at the post-office, or at his fish shanty, and begged for
interviews. They got them, brief and pointedly personal, and, though
these were not printed, columns describing him as "a bluff, big-hearted
hero," were.

If ever a man was mad and disgusted, that man was the Captain. In the
first place, as he said, what he had done was nothing more than any
other man 'longshore would have done, and, secondly, it was nobody's
business. Then again, he said, and