With trembling fingers Captain Enoch turned to the chapter of proposals. “‘How to Propose to a Fat Lady,’” he read.  “Humph!  M’lissy ain’t fat.  ’How to Propose to a Lady of Dignity and Refinement.  ’That sounds more like it.  But the big words are thicker than a school of mummychogs.”

“Read it out loud,” urged Abner.

Captain Enoch put a long forefinger on the first line and cleared his throat.

“‘Dear and esteemed lady,’” he began, “’it is with deep respect that I venture to introduce the subject of matrimony in your presence.  You are my ideal of womanhood and your smile is more precious to me than the Kohinoor.’  What’s the Kohinoor?” he asked, pausing.

“Skip it,” suggested Abner.  “I ain’t no ’cyclopedia.  Go on.”

“’It is with painful trep-trep-trepidation that I bring my suit before you.’”

Captain Enoch paused again. “‘Suit?’” he repeated.  “I don’t see how that fits in.  What’s a suit got to do with a proposal?”

“Mebbe it’s a hint that you might want your clo’s mended after you was married,” decided Abner.  “Anyway, it sounds all right the way it’s wrote.  Stop a stoppin’.  You never’ll git it read, if you don’t keep goin’.”

Thus adjured the captain proceeded. “’Oh, dear one, beloved lady of my dreams, my own—­’ There’s a blank place.  It says under it, ’name of lady.’”

“Wall, say M’lissy,” interjected Abner.

Captain Enoch’s bronzed countenance was the color of a tomato on a tin can, but he went on valiantly, “’My own M’lissy, come to my arms, and fill my measure of happiness to overflowing by promising to become my wife, and I will shield and protect you from all the storms of life.’  It ends like an advertisement for umbrellas,” he complained.

“It don’t do no such thing,” contended Abner vigorously.  “It’s a real high-toned proposal and any woman ought to be satisfied with it.  The man that wrote that must have known an awful lot about women.  Now you go ahead and learn that proposal and there you be all ready for the parson.”

“Yes, ‘there I be,’” mimicked the captain ungratefully.  “It would take a college professor to say them words fast, and I’m only a plain sailor man.”

But in spite of his sarcasm the captain attacked his self-appointed task with the grim determination that had made him respected in every port wherever the big deep water tramp, of which he was the proud master, had dropped her huge mudhook.

The steamer was laid up at Boston, having a splendid collection of tropical barnacles scraped from her stout hull.  If it had not been for the barnacles, the captain would not have been ashore.

For a week the captain studied strenuously, hardly allowing himself time to sleep.  Abner offered to assist him at rehearsals and every afternoon he drilled Captain Enoch diligently.  He was a firm disciplinarian and insisted upon his pupil’s being letter perfect.  Book in hand, he corrected the captain vigorously.