“By Jove, that girl’s taken a fancy to you,” said the skipper.  “She wants you to go back.”

The mate sighed.  “Seems like it,” he said modestly.

To his astonishment the girl was now joined by her men folk, who also waved hearty farewells, and, throwing their arms about, shouted incoherently.

“Blamed if they haven’t all took a fancy to you,” said the puzzled skipper; “the old man’s got the speaking-trumpet now.  What does he say?”

“Something about life, I think,” said the mate.

“They’re more like jumping-jacks than anything else,” said the skipper.  “Just look at ’em.”

The mate looked, and, as the distance increased, sprang on to the side, and, his eyes dim with emotion, waved tender farewells.  If it had not been for the presence of the skipper—­a tremendous stickler for decorum—­ he would have kissed his hand.

It was not until Gravesend was passed, and the side-lights of the shipping were trying to show in the gathering dusk, that he awoke from his tender apathy.  It is probable that it would have lasted longer than that but for a sudden wail of anguish and terror which proceeded from the cabin and rang out on the still warm air.

“Sakes alive!” said the skipper, starting; “what’s that?”

Before the mate could reply, the companion was pushed back, and a middle-aged woman, labouring under strong excitement, appeared on deck.

“You villain!” she screamed excitably, rushing up to the mate.  “Take me back; take me back!”

“What’s all this, Harry?” demanded the skipper sternly.

“He—­he—­he—­asked me to go into the cab—­cabin,” sobbed Mrs. Jansell, “and sent me to sleep, and too—­too—­took me away.  My husband’ll kill me; I know he will.  Take me back.”

“What do you want to be took back to be killed for?” interposed one of the men judicially.

“I might ha’ known what he meant when he said I brightened the cabin up,” said Mrs. Jansell; “and when he said he thought me and my daughter were sisters.  He said he’d like me to sit there always, the wretch!”

“Did you say that?” inquired the skipper fiercely.

“Well, I did,” said the miserable mate; “but I didn’t mean her to take it that way.  She went to sleep, and I forgot all about her.”

“What did you say such silly lies for, then?” demanded the skipper.

The mate hung his head.

“Old enough to be your mother too,” said the skipper severely.  “Here’s a nice thing to happen aboard my ship, and afore the boy too!”

“Blast the boy!” said the goaded mate.

“Take me back,” wailed Mrs. Jansell; “you don’t know how jealous my husband is.”

“He won’t hurt you,” said the skipper kindly “he won’t be jealous of a woman your time o’ life; that is, not if he’s got any sense.  You’ll have to go as far as Boston with us now.  I’ve lost too much time already to go back.”