“That’d be more business than I’ve a mind for, Rogers,” answered Captain Cai; “at any rate, while you live.  I’ve a-left my affairs to you these twelve year, an’ mean to continue, please God—­you knowin’ my ways.”

The chandler blinked.  “That’s very han’some o’ ye, Cap’n,” he said after a long pause.  “But—­”

“There’s no ‘but’ about it,” interrupted Captain Cai shortly, looking away and resting his gaze on the Hannah Hoo out in the harbour, where she lay on the edge of the deep-water channel among a small crowd of wind-bounders.  Her crew had already made some progress in unbending sails, and her stripped spars shone as gold against the westering sunlight.  “No ‘but’ about it, Rogers—­unless o’ course you’re unwillin’.”

“What’s willin’ or unwillin’ to a man broken in health as I be?  That’s the p’int, Cap’n—­here, set opposite to ’ee, staring ’ee in the face—­a hulk, shall we say?—­rudder gone, ridin’ to a thread o’ life—­” “You’ll ride to it a many years yet, please God again.”

“I take ’e to witness this is not my askin’.”

Captain Cai stared. “‘Tis my askin’, Rogers.  I put it as a favour.”

“What about your friend?  I was thinkin’ as maybe he’d take over the job.”

“’Bias?” Captain Cai shook his head.  “He’ve no gift in money matters; let be that I don’t believe in mixin’ friendship in business.”

Mr Rogers pondered this for some while in silence.  Then he struck a hand-bell beside him, and his summons was answered by a small short-skirted handmaiden who had waited table.

“Pipe’s out, my dear,” he announced.  “An’ while you’re about it you may mix us another glassful apiece.”

“Not for me, thank ’ee,” said Captain Cai.

“An’ not for him, neither,” said the girl.  She was but a child, yet she spoke positively, and yet again without disrespect in her manner.  “’Tis poison for ’ee,” she added, knocking out the ash from her master’s churchwarden pipe and refilling it from the tobacco-jar.  “You know what the doctor said?”

“Ugh!—­a pair o’ tyrants, you an’ the doctor!  Just a thimbleful now—­if the Cap’n here will join me.”

“You heard him?  He don’t want another glass.”

Her solemn eyes rested on Captain Cai, and he repeated that he would take no more grog.

She struck a match and held it to the pipe while the chandler drew a few puffs.  Then she was gone as noiselessly as she had entered.

“That’s a question now,” observed Captain Cai after a pause.

“What’s a question?”

“Servants.  I’ve talked it over with ’Bias, and he allows we should advertise for a single housekeeper; a staid honest woman to look after the pair of us—­with maybe a trifle of extra help.  That gel, for instance, as waited table—­”

“Tabb’s child?”

“Is that her name?”

“She was christened Fancy—­Fancy Tabb—­her parents being a brace o’ fools.  Ay, she’s a nonesuch, is Tabb’s child.”