“Have you thought of what all this may mean, Tunis?” she asked.

“You bet I have.  I haven’t been thinking of much else—­not since the first time I saw you.”

“What?  You felt—­felt that you could like me that night when we sat on the bench so long on the Common?”

“My Godfrey, Ida May!” he exclaimed.  “Since that time you slipped on the sidewalk in front of that restaurant and I caught you.  That’s when I first knew that you were the most wonderful girl in the world!”

“Oh, Tunis!  Do you mean that?”

“I certainly do,” he said stoutly.

“That—­that you thought that?  At very first sight?”

“I couldn’t get you out of my mind.  I went about in a sort of dream.  Why, Ida May, when Cap’n Ira and Aunt Prue talked so much about wanting that other girl down here, all I could think of was you!  I half believed it must be you that they sent me for—­until I came face to face with that other girl.”

Her face dimpled suddenly; her eyes shone.  The look she gave him passed through Tunis Latham like an electric shock.  He trembled.  He would have drawn her closer.

“Not here, Tunis,” she whispered.  “But if you dare take me—­knowing what and who I am—­I am all yours.  Whenever you feel that you can take me I shall be ready.  Can I say more, Tunis?”

He looked at her solemnly.  “I am the happiest man alive.  I am the happiest man alive, Ida May!” he breathed.

CHAPTER XVIII

IDA MAY THINKS IT OVER

The Seamew sailed next day, short-handed.  Not only had Tony, the boy, left, but one of the foremast hands did not put in an appearance.  A grinning Portygee boy came to the wharf and announced that “Paul, he iss ver’ seek.”

Tunis knew it would be useless to go after the man, just as it had been useless to go after Tony.  He had been unable to ship another boy in Tony’s place, and when he let it be known among the dock laborers and loungers about Luiz Wharf that there was a berth open in the Seamew’s forecastle, nobody applied for it.

“What is the matter with those fellows?” the skipper asked Mason Chapin.  “They were tumbling over each other a few weeks ago to join us, and now there isn’t an offer.”

“Some Portygee foolishness,” grumbled the mate.

“I wonder,” muttered Tunis.

“You wonder if it’s so?” queried the mate.  “You know how silly these people are once they get a crazy notion in their heads.”

“What’s the crazy notion, Mr. Chapin?”

The mate flung up his hands and shrugged his shoulders.

“A haunt—­a jinx—­something.  The Lord knows!”

“I wonder if it is a Portygee notion or something else,” said Tunis Latham, his eyes fixed on the back of Orion, busy, for once, at the other rail.

“Whatever it is, Captain Latham,” said Mason Chapin with gravity, “I suggest you fill your berths at Boston.”