It came to a finish at last. The bride went up to change, and old Captain Price took a cab to the docks. The Burdock was smart in new paint, and even the deck hands had been washed for the occasion.
"I'll go down with you a bit," he explained to Sewell, the chief mate. "The pilot'll bring me back. I suppose I can go up to the chart-house?"
"Of course, sir," said Sewell. "If you can't go where you like aboard of us, who can?"
The old man smiled. "That'll be for the Captain to say," he answered, and went up the ladder.
She was very smart, the old Burdock, and Arthur had made changes in the chart-house, but she had the same feel for her old Captain. Under her paint and frills, the steel of her structure was unaltered; the old engines would heave her along; the old seas conspire against her. Shift and bedeck and bedrape her as they might, she was yet the Burdock; her lights would run down the Channel with no new consciousness in their stare, and there was work and peril for men aboard of her as of old.
"Ah, father," said Arthur Price, as he came on the bridge. "Come to shee me chase her roun' the d-dock, eh?" Even as he spoke he tottered. "Damn shiip-pery deck, eh!" he said. "Well, you'll shee shome shteering, 'tanyrate."
He wiped his forehead and his cap fell off. The old man stooped hurriedly and picked it up for him.
"Brace up, Arthur," he said, in an urgent whisper, "an' let the pilot take her down the dock. For God's sake, don't run any risks."
"I'm Captain," said the younger man. "Aren't I Capt'n? Well, then, 'nough said!" He went to the bridge rail.
"All ready, Mish' Mate?" he demanded, and proceeded to get his moorings in.