an't have somersaults on this 'ere ship, Sam," he remarked, shaking
his head; "it ain't the place for 'em."

"I wonder at you teaching 'im such things," said the mate, in grave
disapprobation.

"Me?" said the hapless Sam, trembling with passion.

"He must 'ave seen you do it," said the mate, letting his eye rove
casually over Sam's ample proportions. "You must ha' been leading a
double life altogether, Sam."

"That's nothing to do with us," interrupted the skipper, impatiently.
"I don't mind Sam turning cart-wheels all day if it amuses him, but they
mustn't do it here, that's all. It's no good standing there sulking,
Sam; I can't have it."

He turned away, and Mr. Brown, unable to decide whether he was mad or
drunk, or both, walked back, and, squeezing himself up in the bows,
looked miserably over the sea. Behind him the men disported themselves
with Master Jones, and once, looking over his shoulder, he actually saw
the skipper giving him a lesson in steering.

By the following afternoon he was in such a state of collapse that, when
they put in at the small port of Withersea to discharge a portion of
their cargo, he obtained permission to stay below in his bunk. Work
proceeded without him, and at nine o'clock in the evening they sailed
again, and it was not until they were a couple of miles on their way
to Dimport that Mr. Legge rushed aft with the announcement that he was
missing.

"Don't talk nonsense," said the skipper, as he came up from below in
response to a hail from the mate.

[Illustration: Don't talk nonsense 264]

"It's a fact, sir," said Mr. Legge, shaking his head.

"What's to be done with the boy?" demanded the mate, blankly.

"Sam's a unsteady, unreliable, tricky old man," exclaimed the skipper,
hotly; "the idea of going and leaving a boy on our hands like that. I'm
surprised at him. I'm disappointed in Sam--deserting!"

"I expect 'e's larfing like anything, sir," remarked Mr. Legge.

"Get forrard," said the skipper, sharply; "get forrard at once, d'ye
hear?"

"But what's to be done with the boy?--that's what I want to know," said
the mate.

"What d'ye think's to be done with him?" bawled the skipper. "We can't
chuck him overboard, can we?"

"I mean when we get to Dimport?" growled the mate.

"Well, the men'll talk," said the skipper, calming down a little, "and
perhaps Sam's wife'll come and take him. If not, I suppose he'll have to
go to the workhouse. Anyway, it's got nothing to d