“Timmie!” I whispered.

He was sound asleep. I gave him an impatient nudge in the ribs.

“Ay, Davy?” he asked.

“You may have my hundred-tonner,” said I.

“What hundred-tonner?”

“The big fore-an’-after, Timmie, I’m t’ have when I’m growed. You may skipper she. You’ll not wreck her, Timmie, will you?”

He was asleep.

“Hut!” I thought, angrily. “I’ll have Jacky skipper that craft, if Timmie don’t look out.”

At any rate, she was not to be for me.