“I heard you went fishing the other day,” said she.

“Yes.”

“And the judge told me about a big bass you hooked, and how you played him longer than was necessary for the mere fun of the thing.”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps you will find in the feeling that prompted you to do that a clue to the character of our sex.”

CHAPTER X

Mr. Cooke had had a sloop yacht built at Far Harbor, the completion of which had been delayed, and which was but just delivered.  She was, painted white, with brass fittings, and under her stern, in big, black letters, was the word Maria, intended as a surprise and delicate conjugal compliment to Mrs. Cooke.  The Maria had a cabin, which was finished in hard wood and yellow plush, and accommodations for keeping things cold.  This last Mr. Cooke had insisted upon.

The skipper Mr. Cooke had hired at Far Harbor was a God-fearing man with a luke warm interest in his new billet and employer, and had only been prevailed upon to take charge of the yacht for the month after the offer of an emolument equal to half a year’s sea pay of an ensign in the navy.  His son and helper was to receive a sum proportionally exorbitant.  This worthy man sighted Mohair on a Sunday morning, and at nine o’clock dropped his anchor with a salute which caused Mr. Cooke to say unpleasant things in his sleep.  After making things ship-shape and hoisting the jack, both father and son rowed ashore to the little church at Asquith.

Now the butler at Mohair was a servant who had learned, from long experience, to anticipate every wish and whim of his master, and from the moment he descried the white sails of the yacht out of the windows of the butler’s pantry his duty was clear as daylight.  Such was the comprehension and despatch with which he gave his commands that the captain returned from divine worship to find the Maria in profane hands, her immaculate deck littered with straw and sawdust, and covered to the coamings with bottles and cases.  This decided the captain, he packed his kit in high dudgeon, and took the first train back to Far Harbor, leaving the yacht to her fate.

This sudden and inconsiderate departure was a severe blow to Mr. Cooke’ who was so constituted that he cared but little about anything until there was danger of not getting it.  My client had planned a trip to Bear Island for the following Tuesday, which was to last a week, the party to bring tents with them and rough it, with the Maria as headquarters.  It was out of the question to send to Far Harbor for another skipper, if, indeed, one could be found at that late period.  And as luck would have it, six of Mr. Cooke’s ten guests had left but a day or so since, and among them had been the only yacht-owner.  None of the four that remained could do more than haul aft and belay a sheet.  But the Celebrity, who chanced along as Mr. Cooke was ruefully gazing at the graceful lines of the Maria from the wharf and cursing the fate that kept him ashore with a stiff wind blowing, proposed a way out of the difficulty.  He, the Celebrity, would gladly sail the Maria over to Bear Island provided another man could be found to relieve him occasionally at the wheel, and the like.  He had noticed that Farrar was a capable hand in a boat, and suggested that he be sent for.