He ran as he had never ran before in his life, but all to no purpose, the trap stopping calmly a little further on to take up another passenger, in whose favour the groom retired to the back seat; then, with a final wave of the hand to him, they took a road to the left and drove rapidly out of sight.  The boatswain’s watch was over.

LOW WATER

It was a calm, clear evening in late summer as the Elizabeth Ann, of Pembray, scorning the expensive aid of a tug, threaded her way down the London river under canvas.  The crew were busy forward, and the master and part-owner—­a fussy little man, deeply imbued with a sense of his own importance and cleverness—­was at the wheel chatting with the mate.  While waiting for a portion of his cargo, he had passed the previous week pleasantly enough with some relatives in Exeter, and was now in a masterful fashion receiving a report from the mate.

“There’s one other thing,” said the mate.  “I dessay you’ve noticed how sober old Dick is to-night.”

“I kept him short o’ purpose,” said the skipper, with a satisfied air.

“Tain’t that,” said the mate.  “You’ll be pleased to hear that ‘im an’ Sam has been talked over by the other two, and that all your crew now, ’cept the cook, who’s still Roman Catholic, has j’ined the Salvation Army.”

“Salvation Army!” repeated the skipper in dazed tones.  “I don’t want none o’ your gammon, Bob.”

“It’s quite right,” said the other.  “You can take it from me.  How it was done I don’t know, but what I do know is, none of ’em has touched licker for five days.  They’ve all got red jerseys, an’ I hear as old Dick preaches a hexcellent sermon.  He’s red-hot on it, and t’others follow ’im like sheep.”

“The drink’s got to his brain,” said the skipper sagely, after due reflection.  “Well, I don’t mind, so long as they behave theirselves.”

He kept silence until Woolwich was passed, and they were running along with all sails set, and then, his curiosity being somewhat excited, he called old Dick to him, with the amiable intention of a little banter.

“What’s this I hear about you j’ining the Salvation Army?” he asked.

“It’s quite true, sir,” said Dick.  “I feel so happy, you can’t think—­we all do.”

“Glory!” said one of the other men, with enthusiastic corroboration.

“Seems like the measles,” said the skipper facetiously.  “Four of you down with it at one time!”

“It is like the measles, sir,” said the old man impressively, “an’ I only hope as you’ll catch it yourself, bad.”

“Hallelujah!” bawled the other man suddenly.  “He’ll catch it.”

“Hold that noise, you, Joe!” shouted the skipper sternly.  “How dare you make that noise aboard ship?”

“He’s excited, sir,” said Dick.  “It’s love for you in ’is ’eart as does it.”

“Let him keep his love to hisself,” said the skipper churlishly.