“All right,” said the mate at last; “have it your own way.”

“Hold your tongue, Ted,” shouted Mrs. Gibbs; “you’re trying to shield him.”

“I tell you Ted brought her aboard, and they had a lover’s quarrel,” said her unhappy spouse.  “It’s nothing to do with me at all.”

“And that’s why you told me Ted had got the toothache, and tried to get me off to the chemist’s, I s’pose,” retorted his wife, with virulence.  “Do you think I’m a fool?  How dare you ask a young woman on this barge?  How dare you?”

“I didn’t ask her,” said her husband.

“I s’pose she came without being asked,” sneered his wife, turning her regards to the passenger; “she looks the sort that might.  You brazen-faced girl!”

“Here, go easy, Loo,” interrupted the mate, flushing as he saw the girl’s pale face.

“Mind your own business,” said his sister, violently.

“It is my business,” said the repentant mate.  “I brought her aboard, and then we quarrelled.”

“I’ve no doubt,” said his sister, bitterly; “it’s very pretty, but it won’t do.”

“I swear it’s the truth,” said the mate.

“Why did John keep it so quiet and hide her for, then?” demanded his sister.

“I came down for the trip,” said Miss Harris; “that is all about it.  There is nothing to make a fuss about.  How much is it, Captain Gibbs?”

She produced a little purse from her pocket, but before the embarrassed skipper could reply, his infuriated wife struck it out of her hand.  The mate sprang instinctively forward, but too late, and the purse fell with a splash into the water.  The girl gave a faint cry and clasped her hands.

“How am I to get back?” she gasped.

“I’ll see to that, Lucy,” said the mate.  “I’m very sorry—­I’ve been a brute.”

“You?” said the indignant girl.  “I would sooner drown myself than be beholden to you.”

“I’m very sorry,” repeated the mate, humbly.

“There’s enough of this play-acting,” interposed Mrs. Gibbs.  “Get off this barge.”

“You stay where you are,” said the mate, authoritatively.

“Send that girl off this barge,” screamed Mrs. Gibbs to her husband.

Captain Gibbs smiled in a silly fashion and scratched his head.  “Where is she to go?” he asked feebly.

“Wh’at does it matter to you where she goes?” cried his wife, fiercely.  “Send her off.”

The girl eyed her haughtily, and repulsing the mate as he strove to detain her, stepped to the side.  Then she paused as he suddenly threw off his coat, and sitting down on the hatch, hastily removed his boots.  The skipper, divining his intentions, seized him by the arm.

“Don’t be a fool, Ted,” he gasped; “you’ll get under the barge.”

The mate shook him off, and went in with a splash which half drowned his adviser.  Miss Harris, clasping her hands, ran to the side and gazed fearfully at the spot where he had disappeared, while his sister in a terrible voice seized the opportunity to point out to her husband the probably fatal results of his ill-doing.  There was an anxious interval, and then the mate’s head appeared above the water, and after a breathing-space disappeared again.  The skipper, watching uneasily, stood by with a lifebelt.