“I know you wouldn’t.  But my case is different.  Oh, I wish I could tell you all, but I can’t.  You will trust me, anyway, won’t you, and let me stay here for a while?”

The captain sighed and looked helplessly around.

“Well, I’ll be jiggered!” he growled.  “This is sartinly some fix an’ I don’t know what to do.  The accommodation isn’t much here fer the likes of you, though it ain’t too bad fer me an’ Eb.  If you occupy this cabin, we’ll have to camp out on deck, an’ I know what Eb’ll say about that.  He’s more’n fond of sleep, that boy is, the greatest I ever saw.  Why he’d sooner sleep than eat any day, an’ he likes a good soft bed at that.  I had to buy a special spring an’ mattress before I could git him to come with me this year.  He doesn’t take much to boatin’, an’ I have to make things as smooth as possible.”

“But can’t you put his cot on deck?” the girl suggested.  “I am very sorry that I am giving you so much trouble, but I shall pay you well.  Money is no object if you will only help me out of my trouble.  I am sure you will never regret it.”

“I hope not, Miss, fer I don’t want to git into any fix.  It wouldn’t look very nice if the papers got hold of this affair.  Jist imagine a big write-up about Capt.  Sam’l Tobin keepin’ a fine lookin’ runaway gal on the ‘Eb an’ Flo.’  Why, I’d never be able to hold up me head agin, an’ I guess it ‘ud about break Martha’s heart, to say nuthin’ about Flo.  They’re mighty pertic’ler about sich things, they surely are.”

“This must never get into the papers,” the girl declared, “for you must promise that you will keep it a dead secret, and not tell anyone, not even your own family.”

“I don’t see how I kin do that, Miss.  I guess ye don’t know Martha as well as I do.  If ye did, ye wouldn’t talk about keepin’ this racket a secret from me family.  An’ besides, thar’s Eben, who’ll be here in a jiffy now.  How am I to explain matters to him?  No, Miss, I reckon ye’d better light out while the coast is clear.  I’ll git the boy to take ye ashore, an’ tell him that ye hit the wrong craft.”

But the girl was not to be baffled in her purpose.  She rose to her feet and stood before the captain.  Her eyes were wide with a nameless fear, and her face showed very white where the light of the bracket-lamp fell upon it.

“Don’t, don’t send me away,” she pleaded.  “Let me stay here until you go from this place.  Then you can put me ashore in the woods, or throw me overboard, I don’t care which, but for the love of heaven let me stay now!”

Captain Samuel’s big right hand dove suddenly into his pocket and clawed forth a clay pipe, a plug of tobacco, and a large jack-knife.  He examined them carefully for a few seconds, the girl all the time watching him most intently.

“You will let me stay, won’t you?” she coaxed.  “Don’t send me away.”

“I don’t see how I kin, Miss.  Yer here, an’ that’s all thar is about it.  Ye won’t go of yer own accord, an’ I’ve never yit laid hands on a woman.  Now, if you was a man I’d show ye a thing or two in a jiffy, but what kin one do with a woman when she once makes up her mind?”