Clancy laid a hand on the wheel. “You needn’t bother about steering any more. I’ll stand your watch out, and do you go below. And if you’ll take my advice, and no offence meant, when you get to Gloucester you’ll take to farming; for cert’nly the Lord never intended you for a fisherman.”

Be sure they heard that below—an ear to the binnacle-box assured it; and when he came below among them furtive glances stole around the company. But like gentlemen, they said never a word. Nor did he then; only sat down on a locker and drew off his oilskins, first his jacket and trousers, then followed his jack-boots, wearily, and got into his slipshods, after which he reached back and from under the mattress of his bunk drew out a plug of tobacco and rolled it in the palms of his hands, and filled his pipe, and stretched his feet then toward the stove.

In which position he smoked meditatively, and, after a while—puff—puff—and a great sigh: “Well, I’ve crossed the Bay of Fundy a hundred times, but this is the first time ever I crossed under water.”

The disrated helmsman’s mate was at that time forward, considering how foolish it was to attempt to stand watch at all. He was making no pretension to look out; simply curled up and waited for his hour to come to an end.

“And I might’s well been below for all the good I was doing,” he explained when he did get below. “Might as well lock her up forward and let her go her way, for it’s nothing but a solid ledge of clear white water ahead of her, and into that she’s everlastin’ly pilin’.”

“And how’s the skipper? Looking tired yet?”

“Him tired? And the vessel goin’ to the west’ard! Man! he’s just beginnin’ to beam!”

“Still singin’ the little songs to himself, rhymin’ as he goes along?”

“Ay, still singin’,

singin’ away, and his eyes shinin’ like Thacher’s after you’ve come a passage from Flemish Cap.”

The prospect by and by moved Sam Leary to ascend to the deck, where his eyes at once caught a faint column of smoke. “That the Yarmouth steamer, skipper, down to le’ward?”

“That’s the old lady, Sam. Raised her at seven o’clock this morning, and by twelve o’clock—the way we’re sliding along now—we’ll have rubbed even that blotch of smoke off the skyline, Sam.”

“And they say she averages her fourteen knots one year’s end to the other? Well, that’s tearin’ ’em off some.”

He took a fresh grip of the weather-rigging and gazed with yet more respectful interest at her deck. “Lord! Lord! loose as cinders and fair leapin’ for home. And—hullo, what! Thacher’s already? Lord! skipper, but she’s cert’nly been pushin’ the suds out of her way. I’ll bet you were glad to see ’em.” He nodded to the twin shafts ahead.

“I could kiss the whitewashed stones of ’em, Sammie. And here”—Clancy slipped the life-line from about his body—“here, Sam, and mind you keep her going.”

They kept her going with never a slack till she was safe to the dock; and up to the dock, ere yet her lines were fast or her lowering sails down, Clancy flew.