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the worst sort o' Jonah. Drowned four men she did, an' used to
shine fiery o' nights in the nest."

"And you believe that?" said Harvey, remembering what Tom Platt
had said about candles and models. "Haven't we all got to take
what's served?"

A mutter of dissent ran round the bunks. "Outboard, yes; inboard,
things can happen," said Disko. "Don't you go makin' a mock of
Jonahs, young feller."

"Well, Harve ain't no Jonah. Day after we catched him," Dan cut
in, "we had a toppin' good catch."

The cook threw up his head and laughed suddenly - a queer, thin
laugh. He was a most disconcerting nigger.
"Murder!" said Long Jack. "Don't do that again, doctor. We ain't
used to Ut."

"What's wrong?" said Dan. "Ain't he our mascot, and didn't they
strike on good after we'd struck him?"

"Oh! yess," said the cook. "I know that, but the catch iss not
finish yet."

"He ain't goin' to do us any harm," said Dan, hotly. "Where are ye
hintin' an' edgin' to? He's all right."

"No harm. No. But one day he will be your master, Danny."

"That all?" said Dan, placidly. "He wun't - not by a jugful."

"Master!" said the cook, pointing to Harvey. "Man!" and he pointed
to Dan.

"That's news. Haow soon?" said Dan, with a laugh.

"In some years, and I shall see it. Master and man - man and
master."

"How in thunder d'ye work that out?" said Tom Platt.

"In my head, where I can see."

"Haow?" This from all the others at once.

"I do not know, but so it will be." He dropped his head, and went
on peeling the potatoes, and not another word could they get out
of him.

"Well," said Dan, "a heap o' things'll hev to come abaout 'fore
Harve's any master o' mine; but I'm glad the doctor ain't choosen
to mark him for a Jonah. Now, I mistrust Uncle Salters fer the
Jonerest Jonah in the fleet regardin' his own special luck. Dunno
ef it's spreadin' same's smallpox. He ought to be on the Carrie
Pitman. That boat's her own Jonah, sure - crews an' gear make no
differ to her driftin'. Jimmy Christmas! She'll etch loose in a
flat ca'am."

"We're well dear o' the fleet, anyway," said Disko, "Carrie Pitman
an' all." There was a rapping on the deck.

"Uncle Salters has catched his luck," said Dan, as his father
departed.

"It's blown clear," Disko cried, and all the fo'c'sle tumbled up
for a bit of fresh air. The fog had gone, but a sullen sea ran in
great rollers behind it. The "We're Here" slid, as it were, into
long, sunk avenues and ditches which felt quite sheltered and
homelike if they would only stay still; but they changed without
rest or mercy, and flung up the schooner to crown one peak of a
thousand grey hills, while the wind hooted through her rigging as
she zigzagged down the slopes. Far away a sea would burst in a
sheet of foam, and the others would follow suit as at a signal,
till Harvey's eyes swam with the vision of interlacing whites and
greys. Four or five Mother Carey's chickens stormed round in

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