had a drink in ten days.  I’m an old man and the fever has weakened me.  Then I took it on an empty stomach, too, and there was them three soaks setting me an example, they arguing for me to take the Flibberty to Poonga-Poonga, an’ me pointing out my duty to the contrary.  The trouble was, all the arguments were pointed with drinks, and me not being a drinking man, so to say, and weak from fever . . .

“Well, anyway, at the end of the half-hour down she came again and took a good squint at me.  ‘That’ll do nicely,’ I remember her saying; and with that she took the whisky bottles and hove them overside through the companionway.  ’That’s the last, she said to the three soaks, ’till the Martha floats and you’re back in Guvutu.  It’ll be a long time between drinks.’  And then she laughed.

“She looked at me and said—­not to me, mind you, but to the soaks:  ’It’s time this worthy man went ashore’—­me! worthy man!  ‘Fowler,’ she said—­you know, just like a straight order, and she didn’t mister him—­it was plain Fowler—­’Fowler,’ she said, ’just tell Adamu Adam to man the whale-boat, and while he’s taking Captain Oleson ashore have your boat put me on the Flibberty.  The three of you sail with me, so pack your dunnage.  And the one of you that shows up best will take the mate’s billet.  Captain Oleson doesn’t carry a mate, you know.’

“I don’t remember much after that.  All hands got me over the side, and it seems to me I went to sleep, sitting in the stern-sheets and watching that Adamu steer.  Then I saw the Flibberty’s mainsail hoisting, and heard the clank of her chain coming in, and I woke up.  ’Here, put me on the Flibberty,’ I said to Adamu.  ‘I put you on the beach,’ said he.  ‘Missie Lackalanna say beach plenty good for you.’  Well, I let out a yell and reached for the steering-sweep.  I was doing my best by my owners, you see.  Only that Adamu gives me a shove down on the bottom-boards, puts one foot on me to hold me down, and goes on steering.  And that’s all.  The shock of the whole thing brought on fever.  And now I’ve come to find out whether I’m skipper of the Flibberty, or that chit of yours with her pirating, heathen boat’s-crew.”

“Never mind, skipper.  You can take a vacation on pay.”  Sheldon spoke with more assurance than he felt.  “If Miss Lackland, who is my partner, has seen fit to take charge of the Flibberty-Gibbet, why, it is all right.  As you will agree, there was no time to be lost if the Martha was to be got off.  It is a bad reef, and any considerable sea would knock her bottom out.  You settle down here, skipper, and rest up and get the fever out of your bones.  When the Flibberty-Gibbet comes back, you’ll take charge again, of course.”

After Dr. Welshmere and the Apostle departed and Captain Oleson had turned in for a sleep in a veranda hammock, Sheldon opened Joan’s letter.