The two men sat and looked out to sea in silence.  At last Baldwin, with a heavy sigh? stood up, and, reaching into a locker, brought forth a bottle and two glasses.  “I s’pose we oughter try to forget it for awhile.  This stuff here, it’s against regulations havin’ it aboard, but lots of things against regulations never hurt anybody.  It was against regulations our takin’ out the Whist last night.  And when the commandant’s back from leave I reckon I’ll get mine.  For you”—­he laid a forefinger against the big rating badge on his coat sleeve—­“that I’ve been shipmates with for fifteen years—­off and on—­I reckon will be detached.  But I’ve been disrated before and we’ll let that pass.  But you an’ me and Bud, we ain’t been the best of friends we used to be since—­well, you know when, but you’re goin’ to drink for him now the toast he wouldn’t drink last night, but the toast that if he was here I know he’d drink now, for it’s a sure thing that when he went into the breakers he didn’t go out of hate.  So you drink for Bud, and I’ll drink for myself.  Here’s to you and yours, Bowen, your wife and the baby that’s comin’—­”

“And that baby—­if it’s a boy, Baldwin, I’ll name after him.”

“Will you?  God, but he’ll like that—­Bud’ll sure like that.  And now, here you go—­

  “May the wind be always fair for you
  Whatever the course you sail!

“An’ you an’ me and all of us we’ll be like we used to be, an’ Bud’ll like it, I know.  An’ now one to Bud himself.  I know ’twill please him to see us doin’ it.  Here’s to Buddie, Bowen.  Is it a go?”

“Let her run!”

“Run it is, and a gale behind her—­Christmas to Bud!”

Captain Blaise

Two years now since Mr. Villard had come home, and not a soul on the plantation but believed that at last the new master had given up his mysterious voyages and was home to stay.  But one day I had business in Savannah, and while there, hearing that the bark Nereid was in from the West African coast, I strolled down to the river front; and presently I was approached and addressed by the master of the Nereid, a seaman-like and rather shrewd-looking man who had a message for Mr. Villard, he said—­from the West Coast.

“I am charged to ask him to pass the word to Captain Blaise,” said the Nereid’s master, “that an old friend of his lies low of fever into Momba.  Captain Blaise would know who.  We were putting out of Momba lagoon and I was standing by the rail, when a nigger came paddling up and whispered it.  Like a breath of night air it was.  ’Tell Master Captain that Ubbo bring the word,’ said the nigger, and like another breath of wind he passed on.  No more than that.  A short, very stout, and very black nigger.  And I was to pass the word to Mr. Villard, a gentleman of estate near Savannah, Georgia, and if you, sir, will attend to that, my part’s done.”