It was a beautiful Saturday morning, and Captain Josh was busy in his little work-shop at the side of his house.  He was in a hurry, and his big hands moved swiftly and deftly as he cut the cotton or tied a piece of string.  Once or twice he stepped back to view his work, and then a pleased expression appeared upon his face.  Occasionally his eyes turned toward the little window above the work-bench until they rested upon the road, leading from the main highway to his house.  The captain was expecting company, and this was something remarkable at “The Anchorage,” the name of the snug cottage by the riverside.

Within the house Mrs. Britt, too, was busy, and as she moved about the kitchen, her step was lighter than it had been for years.  She had just finished making a batch of doughnuts, not the lean kind, mostly holes, but big fat ones, coated with sugar, like thick frost upon the window pane in winter.  She was now making apple pies, the kind where the juice runs out into the oven, and some of it sticks to the plate.

Mrs. Britt was known throughout the parish as an excellent cook, though of late years few people were ever allowed the privilege of tasting her dainties.  This was her husband’s fault, and not hers.  She was naturally of a sociable disposition, and fond of company.  But Captain Josh’s crankiness had antagonised every person in Hillcrest, and it was Mrs. Britt who suffered the most.  But she was loyal to her husband, and if people would not come to her home, she would not go to theirs.

At one time Captain Josh had been the most agreeable of companions, and his return from a voyage was always a red-letter day in the parish.  His ringing laugh was heard at the store, and every evening his house was filled with neighbours, who dropped in to have a smoke, and listen to the yarns of the old seaman.

But two events coming close together produced a great change in the captain.  One was the absence of his only son, Jimmy, who had gone far away to the northland, and never wrote home to his parents.  The other, was the loss of his vessel, the Flying Queen, a three-masted schooner, which, loaded with a valuable cargo, lost her bearings, and went ashore in a heavy fog.  Owing to Captain Josh’s excellent past record, the shipping company was most lenient.  He was permitted to retire with a moderate allowance.  This amount, together with what he obtained from his few acres of land, and the fish and the fur he took, was quite sufficient to keep him and his wife in moderate comfort.

The loss of his vessel, followed by his retirement, was a severe blow to the captain.  He was too old to take command of another ship for new owners, and he chafed at his enforced stay on land.  He longed for the sea, for nowhere else did he feel so much at home.  His pride was hurt as well.  He felt keenly the humiliation, and he believed that his neighbours laughed at him behind his back.  Thus for years he brooded over his troubles until they became a vital part of his very being, and soured his former jolly disposition.