“All right; that being so, we’ll join the ladies.”

Henry Fullerton and Blair walked to the station together that night, and the enthusiast said, “I pray that my brain may be able to bear this.”

“Your fiddlestick, bear this!  I wish some one would give me L150,000 to carry out my pet fad.  I’d bear it, and go on bearing it, quite gallantly, I assure you, my friend.”

A very happy pair of people were left to chat in Cassall’s drawing-room as the midnight drew near.  Sir James had retired early after the two good old boys had addressed each other as buccaneers and shellbacks, and made all sorts of nautical jokes.  The discussion as to who should be admiral promised to supply a month’s fun, but Cassall pretended to remember that Phoenix Sawbones would certainly wish to be commander, on account of the young puppy’s experience.

Marion whispered to her uncle, “I do believe you will make yourself very happy;” and the old gentleman answered, “It really seems to be more like a question of making you happy, you little jilt.”

The little jilt, who was not much shorter than her uncle, looked demure, and the seance closed very happily.

Next day, Mr. Cassall began fitting out in a style which threatened an Arctic voyage of several winters at least; he was artfully encouraged by the little jilt, and he was so intensely pleased with his yachting clothes that he wore them in the grounds until he went away, which proceeding raised unfeigned admiration among the gardeners and the maids.

CHAPTER IV.

THE DENOUEMENT.

The stout-hearted old gentlemen ran out from the Colne in Blair’s schooner, and Freeman had orders to take the Schelling, Ameland, Nordeney, and all the other banks in order.  I need not go over the ground again in detail, but I may say that Sir James was never unobservant; he made the most minute notes and sought to provide against every difficulty.  The bad weather still held, and there were accidents enough and illness enough, in all conscience.  Cassall proposed to hang somebody for permitting the cabins of the smacks to remain in such a wildly unsanitary state; but beyond propounding this totally unpractical suggestion he said little, and contented himself with steady observation.  One day he remarked to Sir James, “A lazy humbug would have a fine time in our cruiser if he liked.  Who, among us landsmen, durst face weather like this constantly?”

“Yes; I’ve been thinking of that.  You must have a regular masterful Tartar of a surgeon, and make him bear all responsibility.  Pick out a good man, and give him a free hand; that seems the best thing to be done.”

The two observers saw all that Ferrier had seen, and suffered a little of what he had suffered.  Before they had their vessel’s head pointed for home, Cassall remarked:  “That young Sawbones must have a reasonable pluck, mind you, Roche.  I find it hard enough to keep my feet, without having to manage delicate operations; and you notice that we’ve heard at least fifty of the men talk about this Ferrier’s skill with his hands.”