“Yes, I have.”

“And what do you think of it?”

“Well, to tell you the truth, I don’t like the idea.”

“Why not?  I’m sure it would be good for him.”

“It might.  I’m sure you mean it well, but I couldn’t bear to have him go.”

“It will make a man of him—­cure him of some of his foolish ways, I’m sure.”

“Perhaps it would.  Bob is very wild, I know, but I think I have more influence over him than any one else.  He will do anything for me, or for his father, either, for that matter.  I am afraid if Bob got away from our influence he would be worse than he is now.”

“Oh, we have a few good influences aboard the Eagle” said the captain with a grim smile.  “Only we don’t call ’em influences.  We call ’em ropes’ ends, or cat-o’-nine-tails, or a belaying-pin.  I’ve known a limber rope’s end, applied in the right place, do more good to a boy than lots of medicine.”

“Oh, but, captain, I couldn’t have Bob beaten!”

“No, of course not, I was only joking.  Not that it doesn’t do a boy good, though, once in a while, to have a good tanning.  But I don’t recommend it for a steady diet.”

“Bob’s father has never whipped him since he was a small lad,” went on Mrs. Henderson.  “Not that he doesn’t seem to deserve it sometimes even now, but Mr. Henderson believes in talking to him and showing him how wrong he has acted.”

“Yes, talk is good,” admitted the mariner, “but if there’s a rope’s end handy, it sometimes makes the talk a little more effective—­just a little bit.”

“I suppose life aboard a sailing ship is very hard now-a-days,” ventured Mrs. Henderson.  Somehow she dwelt on the plan of having the captain take Bob, though she felt she could not consent to it.

“No harder than it ever was.  In fact, it’s easier than when I was a boy and ran away to sea.  Those were hard days, and I’ve never forgot ’em.  That’s why I try to treat all my sailors and cabin boys as if they were human beings.  Now you’d better think my plan over.  It would do Bob a world of good to go to sea.  You’d hardly know him when he got back.”

“Oh, I don’t know what to do,” said Bob’s mother.  “No, I don’t think I can consent.  He might be drowned, and I would never forgive myself.  I don’t believe his father would consent either.”

“Well, think it over,” advised the captain.  “I’m going to be in this port for some time.  We’re loading for a trip around Cape Horn, and it will take two weeks or more to get in shape.  There’s time enough to decide between now and then.”

“I don’t believe I could ever consent,” declared Mrs. Henderson.  “I think Bob will settle down pretty soon and give up playing pranks.”

“I don’t,” said the captain to himself.  “That boy is too full of mischief.  He needs a sea voyage to soak some of it out of him.  But that’s the way with mothers.  Well, I’ll wait a while.  I think something may happen to make her change her mind before I sail.”