They moved off reluctantly, Dick throwing such affectionate glances at the skipper over his shoulders that he nearly choked with rage.

“I won’t have it!” he said fiercely; “I’ll knock it out of ’em.”

“You can’t,” said the mate.  “You can’t knock sailor men about nowadays.  The only thing you can do is to get rid of ’em.”

“I don’t want to do that,” was the growling reply.  “They’ve been with me a long time, and they’re all good men.  Why don’t they have a go at you, I wonder?”

“Me?” said the mate, in indignant surprise.  “Why, I’m a Seventh Day Baptist!  They don’t want to waste their time over me.  I’m all right.”

“You’re a pretty Seventh Day Baptist, you are!” replied the skipper.  “Fust I’ve heard of it.”

“You don’t understand about such things,” said the mate.

“It must be a very easy religion,” continued the skipper.

“I don’t make a show of it, if that’s what you mean,” rejoined the other warmly.  “I’m one o’ them as believe in ’iding my light under a bushel.”

“A pint pot’ud do easy,” sneered the skipper.  “It’s more in your line, too.”

“Anyway, the men reckernise it,” said the mate loftily.  “They don’t go an’ sit in their red jerseys an’ hold mothers’ meetings over me.”

“I’ll knock their blessed heads off!” growled the skipper.  “I’ll learn ’em to insult me!”

“It’s all for your own good,” said the other.  “They mean it kindly.  Well, I wish ’em luck.”

With these hardy words he retired, leaving a seething volcano to pace the deck, and think over ways and means of once more reducing his crew to what he considered a fit and proper state of obedience and respect.

The climax was reached at tea-time, when an anonymous hand was thrust beneath the skylight, and a full-bodied tract fluttered wildly down and upset his tea.

“That’s the last straw!” he roared, fishing out the tract and throwing it on the floor.  “I’ll read them chaps a lesson they won’t forget in a hurry, and put a little money in my pocket at the same time.  I’ve got a little plan in my ’ed as come to me quite sudden this afternoon.  Come on deck, Bob.”

Bob obeyed, grinning, and the skipper, taking the wheel from Sam, sent him for the others.

“Did you ever know me break my word, Dick?” he inquired abruptly, as they shuffled up.

“Never,” said Dick.

“Cap’n Bowers’ word is better than another man’s oath,” asseverated Joe.

“Well,” said Captain Bowers, with a wink at the mate, “I’m going to give you chaps a little self-denial week all to yourselves.  If you all live on biscuit and water till we get to port, and don’t touch nothing else, I’ll jine you and become a Salvationist.”

“Biscuit and water,” said Dick doubtfully, scratching a beard strong enough to scratch back.

“It wouldn’t be right to play with our constitooshuns in that way, sir,” objected Joe, shaking his head.