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"Has she returned home?" asked Captain Acton. So hummed old Harry as he stirred the potatoes and wet his vocal chords, occasionally, from the jug at his feet. "I'll do my best, sir, and I'll work from dawn to night to find it, if it's to be found," was the answer..

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"The wind's gone down," said the boy. "Jest a fair sailin' breeze now." "Gee whitticker!" exclaimed Billy. "I wish now I hadn't promised you I'd come in. All right, lead on. Let's get the funeral over with." The decks had been washed down, the ropes coiled away, and everything was neat, sparkling with the swabbed brine from pump or bucket, and the whole a pleasant picture to the eye with its lofty fabric of wide white canvas, its glossy black sides descending into a ruddy coat of copper sheathing which charged the water immediately under with a yellow light as of fire, the canvas forward lifting and drooping in wings of triangular cloth like the pinions of a sea bird that gently flutters its plumes as it slowly breasts the water to the impulse of its webbed feet. Smoke from the chimney of the little galley rose for a space in a straight line, then curved like the liquid column of a fountain. The cook was preparing breakfast for the cabin, and the savoury smell of eggs and bacon in the process of cooking made the scarcely breeze-disturbed atmosphere in the neighbourhood of the schooner's kitchen shore-like and home-like, and in every sense delicious to hungry sailors whose breakfast was[Pg 341] black tea, ship's biscuit, and such remains of yesterday's beef as they might have preserved. "All right," gruffly assented his companion, "if you're so cock sure, it suits me all right. Come on; let's get out of this cussed woods. Remember we've got some work before us tonight.".