Short Cruises | Page 9

away.
"I wonder who he is?" she whispered, gazing meditatingly at the box.
"A waiter, I should think," snapped the skipper.
The girl shook her head. "No, he is much too distinguished-looking,"
she said, seriously. "Well, I suppose he'll know me again."
The shipper felt that he wanted to get up and smash things; beginning
with the man in the box. It was his first love episode for nearly ten
years, and he had forgotten the pains and penalties which attach to the
condition. When the performance was over he darted a threatening
glance at the box, and, keeping close to Miss Jewell, looked carefully
about him to make sure that they were not followed.
"It was ripping," said the cook, as they emerged into the fresh air.
"Lovely," said the girl, in a voice of gentle melancholy. "I shall come

and see it again, perhaps, when you are at sea."
"Not alone?" said the skipper, in a startled voice.
"I don't mind being alone," said Miss Jewell, gently; "I'm used to it."
The other's reply was lost in the rush for the 'bus, and for the second
time that evening the skipper had to find fault with the seating
arrangements. And when a vacancy by the side of Miss Jewell did
occur, he was promptly forestalled by a young man in a check suit
smoking a large cigar.
They got off at Aldgate, and the girl thanked him for a pleasant evening.
A hesitating offer to see her home was at once negatived, and the
skipper, watching her and the cook until they disappeared in the traffic,
walked slowly and thoughtfully to his ship.
The brig sailed the next evening at eight o'clock, and it was not until six
that the cook remarked, in the most casual manner, that his sister was
coming down to see him off. She arrived half an hour late, and, so far
from wanting to see the cabin again, discovered an inconvenient love of
fresh air. She came down at last, at the instance of the cook, and, once
below, her mood changed, and she treated the skipper with a soft
graciousness which raised him to the seventh heaven. "You'll be good
to Bert, won't you?" she inquired, with a smile at that young man.
"I'll treat him like my own brother," said the skipper, fervently. "No,
better than that; I'll treat him like your brother."
The cook sat erect and, the skipper being occupied with Miss Jewell,
winked solemnly at the skylight.
"I know you will," said the girl, very softly; "but I don't think the
men--"
"The men'll do as I wish," said the skipper, sternly. "I'm the master on
this ship--she's half mine, too--and anybody who interferes with him
interferes with me. If there's anything you don't like, Bert, you tell me."

Mr. Jewell, his small, black eyes sparkling, promised, and then,
muttering something about his work, exchanged glances with the girl
and went up on deck.
"It is a nice cabin," said Miss Jewell, shifting an inch and a half nearer
to the skipper. "I suppose poor Bert has to have his meals in that stuffy
little place at the other end of the ship, doesn't he?"
"The fo'c'sle?" said the skipper, struggling between love and discipline.
"Yes."
The girl sighed, and the mate, who was listening at the skylight above,
held his breath with anxiety. Miss Jewell sighed again and in an
absent-minded fashion increased the distance between herself and
companion by six inches.
"It's usual," faltered the skipper.
"Yes, of course," said the girl, coldly.
"But if Bert likes to feed here, he's welcome," said the skipper,
desperately, "and he can sleep aft, too. The mate can say what he likes."
The mate rose and, walking forward, raised his clenched fists to heaven
and availed himself of the permission to the fullest extent of a
somewhat extensive vocabulary.
"Do you know what I think you are?" inquired Miss Jewell, bending
towards him with a radiant face. "No," said the other, trembling.
"What?"
The girl paused. "It wouldn't do to tell you," she said, in a low voice. "It
might make you vain."
"Do you know what I think you are?" inquired the skipper in his turn.
Miss Jewell eyed him composedly, albeit the corners of her mouth
trembled. "Yes," she said, unexpectedly.

Steps sounded above and came heavily down the companion-ladder.
"Tide's almost on the turn," said the mate, gruffly, from the door.
The skipper hesitated, but the mate stood aside for the girl to pass, and
he followed her up on deck and assisted her to the jetty. For hours
afterwards he debated with himself whether she really had allowed her
hand to stay in his a second or two longer than necessary, or whether
unconscious muscular action on his