“Miss Bostwick,” he called, “any time you are ready the boy will come in and lay the table for breakfast.”

She ran to the companionway, pushed back the door, and appeared smiling in the frame of the doorway.

“Good morning, captain!”

Her cheerfulness was infectious.  All night Tunis Latham, even while lying in his hammock in the forecastle, had been ruminating in anything but a cheerful mood.  Determined as he was to carry his plan through, and confident as he was of its being a good one and eminently practical, he had been considering many chances which at first blush had not appeared to him.

With his first look into her smiling countenance all those anxieties seemed dissipated.  He met her smile with one which transfigured his own handsome face.

“May I come out on deck, captain?”

“We shall be honored by your company up here, Miss Bostwick.”

She even made him a little face in secret for the formality of his address, as she flashed past him.  There was a dancing light in her eye he had not seen before—­at least, not in the openness of day.  There was something daring about her that was a revelation.  He knew at once that he need not fear her attitude when they reached the point where she must carry on her part without his aid.  She displayed an innocent boldness that must dissipate suspicion in the mind of the keenest critic.

Tunis introduced Mason Chapin to her, who quite evidently liked the girl at once.  Orion Latham lounged aft to meet her, his pale eyes betraying surprise as well as admiration.

“Hi golly!” said the supercargo.  “I guess you come honest by the Honey side of your family tree, Miss Bostwick, though you don’t favor them much in looks.”

“’Rion is given to flattery,” said the captain dryly.

Horace Newbegin touched his forelock.  He had been a naval man in his prime and knew what was expected when a lady trod the deck.  The Portygees were all widely asmile.  Indeed, the entire company of the Seamew was cheered by the girl’s presence.

At breakfast time, which was served by Tony to the guest and the mate as well as Captain Latham, her sweet laughter floated out of the cabin and caught the attention of everybody on deck.  Horry grinned wryly upon Orion.

“How ’bout this schooner being hoodooed?” he rumbled in his deep bass.  “Lemme tell you, boy, I’d sail to ary end o’ the world with that gal for mascot.  This won’t be no Jonah ship while she’s aboard.”

“Hi golly!  Tunis Latham has all the luck,” whined Orion.  “Taking her down to live with Cap’n Ball and Prudence!  Huh!  She won’t live with ’em long.”

“Why not?” demanded the old salt.

“Can’t you see what he’s up to?” sneered Orion.  “Aunt ’Cretia will be takin’ a back seat ’fore long.  ‘Latham’s Folly’ will be getting a new mistress.”

“Latham’s Folly” was a name Medway Latham’s big brown house behind Wreckers’ Head had gained soon after it was built.  Such a huge house for so limited a family had suggested the term to the sharp-tongued Cape Codders.