He walked aft and relieved the steersman, awkwardly conscious that the men were becoming more and more interested in the situation, and also that Kate could hear some of their remarks.  As he pondered over the subject, and tried to think of a way out of it, the cause of all the trouble came and stood by him.

“Did my father know of this?” she inquired.

“I don’t know that he did exactly,” said the skipper uneasily.  “I just told him not to expect you back that night.”

“And what did he say?” said she.

“Said he wouldn’t sit up,” said the skipper, grinning, despite himself.

Kate drew a breath the length of which boded no good to her parent, and looked over the side.

“I was afraid of that traveller chap from Ipswich,” said Hezekiah, after a pause.  “Your father told me he was hanging round you again, so I thought I—­well, I was a blamed fool anyway.”

“See how ridiculous you have made me look before all these men,” said the girl angrily.

“They’ve been with me for years,” said Hezekiah apologetically, “and the mate said it was a magnificent idea.  He quite raved about it, he did.  I wouldn’t have done it with some crews, but we’ve had some dirty times together, and they’ve stood by me well.  But of course that’s nothing to do with you.  It’s been an adventure I’m very sorry for, very.”

“A pretty safe adventure for you,” said the girl scornfully.  “You didn’t risk much.  Look here, I like brave men.  If you go in the cage and undo that bear, I’ll marry you.  That’s what I call an adventure.”

“Smith,” called the skipper quietly, “come and take the helm a bit.”

The seaman obeyed, and Lewis, accompanied by the girl, walked forward.

At the bear’s cage he stopped, and, fumbling in his pocket for the key, steadily regarded the brute as it lay gnashing its teeth, and trying in vain to bite the ropes which bound it.

“You’re afraid,” said the girl tauntingly; “you’re quite white.”

The captain made no reply, but eyed her so steadily that her gaze fell.  He drew the key from his pocket and inserted it in the huge lock, and was just turning it, when a soft arm was drawn through his, and a soft voice murmured sweetly in his ear, “Never mind about the old bear.”

And he did not mind.

THE COOK OF THE “GANNET”

All ready for sea, and no cook,” said the mate of the schooner Gannet, gloomily.  “What’s become of all the cooks I can’t think.”

“They most on ’em ship as mates now,” said the skipper, grinning.  “But you needn’t worry about that; I’ve got one coming aboard to-night.  I’m trying a new experiment, George.”

“I once knew a chemist who tried one,” said George, “an’ it blew him out of the winder; but I never heard o’ shipmasters trying ’em.”

“There’s all kinds of experiments,” rejoined the other, “What do you say to a lady cook, George?”