The south-easter sang through the unseen rigging; the ship rushed a fathom through the unseen sea. The second had a look at the compass, and came climbing back to windward with his hands in his pea-jacket pockets.
"And yet," said Mr. Merridew, flourishing his cigar, "and yet—you want to marry my daughter!"
"If she will have me, sir," said the sailor, with an uncertainty on that point in becoming contrast to his certainty of himself.
"But whether I will or not."
"I never said that, Mr. Merridew. I should be very sorry to take up such a position, I can assure you, sir."
"You would be sorry, but you would do it," retorted Mr. Merridew with acumen. "You would do as your father evidently did before you."
"I hoped we had finished with my parents, sir."
"But they left you nothing, if I understand aright," rejoined Merridew, changing his ground and his tone with some dexterity. "And you would marry my daughter on the pay of a junior officer in the merchant service."
"I never said that either. I have my captain's certificate, sir, as it is."
The new tone was the tone to take. Mr. Merridew went so far as to give his daughter her name.