“Loose the sails!” yelled the furious Tucker.  “Loose the sails!  Damme, we’ll get under way by ourselves!”

He ran forward, and, assisted by the mate, hoisted the jibs, and then, running back, cast off from the brig, and began to hoist the mainsail.  As they disengaged themselves from the tier, there was just sufficient sail for them to advance against the tide; while in front of them the Good Intent, shaking out sail after sail, stood boldly down the river.

* * * * *

“This was the way of it,” said Sam, as he stood before the grim Tucker at six o’clock the next morning, surrounded by his mates.  “He came into the ‘Town o’ Berwick,’ where we was, as nice a spoken little chap as ever you’d wish to see.  He said he’d been a-looking at the good intent, and he thought it was the prettiest little craft ’e ever seed, and the exact image of one his dear brother, which was a missionary, ’ad, and he’d like to stand a drink to every man of her crew.  Of course, we all said we was the crew direckly, an’ all I can remember after that is two coppers an’ a little boy trying to giv’ me the frog’s march, an’ somebody chucking pails o’ water over me.  It’s crool ’ard losing a race, what we didn’t know nothink about, in this way; but it warn’t our fault?-it warn’t, indeed.  It’s my belief that the little man was a missionary of some sort hisself, and wanted to convert us, an’ that was his way of starting on the job.  It’s all very well for the mate to have highstirriks; but it’s quite true, every word of it, an’ if you go an’ ask at the pub they’ll tell you the same.”

MATED

The schooner Falcon was ready for sea.  The last bale of general cargo had just been shipped, and a few hairy, unkempt seamen were busy putting on the hatches under the able profanity of the mate.

“All clear?” inquired the master, a short, ruddy-faced man of about thirty-five.  “Cast off there!”

“Ain’t you going to wait for the passengers, then?” inquired the mate.

“No, no,” replied the skipper, whose features were working with excitement.  “They won’t come now, I’m sure they won’t.  We’ll lose the tide if we don’t look sharp.”

He turned aside to give an order just as a buxom young woman, accompanied by a loutish boy, a band-box, and several other bundles, came hurrying on to the jetty.

“Well, here we are, Cap’n Evans,” said the girl, springing lightly on to the deck.  “I thought we should never get here; the cabman didn’t seem to know the way; but I knew you wouldn’t go without us,”

“Here you are,” said the skipper, with attempted cheerfulness, as he gave the girl his right hand, while his left strayed vaguely in the direction of the boy’s ear, which was coldly withheld from him.  “Go down below, and the mate’ll show you your cabin.  Bill, this is Miss Cooper, a lady friend o’ mine, and her brother.”