in amazement as her brother, making a pretence of catching her
husband's eye, screwed his face up into a note of interrogation and gave
a slight jerk with his thumb.

"Come along," said Captain Gibbs, taking her arm with much affection.

"But what's Ted looking like that for?" demanded his wife, as she easily
intercepted another choice facial expression of the mate's.

"Oh, it's his fun," replied her husband, walking on.

"Fun?" repeated Mrs. Gibbs, sharply. "What's the matter, Ted."

"Nothing," replied the mate.

"Touch o' toothache," said the skipper. "Come along, Loo; I can just do
with one o' your breakfasts."

Mrs. Gibbs suffered herself to be led on, and had got at least five yards
on the way home, when she turned and looked back. The mate had still got
the toothache, and was at that moment in all the agonies of a phenomenal
twinge.

"There's something wrong here," said Mrs. Gibbs as she retraced her
steps. "Ted, what are you making that face for?"

"It's my own face," said the mate, evasively.

Mrs. Gibbs conceded the point, and added bitterly that it couldn't be
helped. All the same she wanted to know what he meant by it.

"Ask John," said the vindictive mate.

Mrs. Gibbs asked. Her husband said he didn't know, and added that Ted
had been like it before, but he had not told her for fear of frightening
her. Then he tried to induce her to go with him to the chemist's to get
something for it.

Mrs. Gibbs shook her head firmly, and boarding the barge, took a seat on
the hatch and proceeded to catechise her brother as to his symptoms. He
denied that there was anything the matter with him, while his eyes openly
sought those of Captain Gibbs as though asking for instruction.

"You come home, Ted," she said at length.

"I can't," said the mate. "I can't leave the ship."

"Why not?" demanded his sister.

"Ask John," said the mate again.

At this Mrs. Gibbs's temper, which had been rising, gave way altogether,
and she stamped fiercely upon the deck. A stamp of the foot has been for
all time a rough-and-ready means of signalling; the fore-scuttle was
drawn back, and the face of a young and pretty girl appeared framed in
the opening. The mate raised his eyebrows with a helpless gesture, and
as for the unfortunate skipper, any jury would have found him guilty
without leaving the box. The wife of his bosom, with a flaming visage,
turned and regarded him.

[Illustration: "YOU VILLAIN!" SHE