“When they comes ashore the first man the gal sees is that dinky little skipper a-waitin’ there on the dock, jest as natural an’ chipper as if he wasn’t the ugliest skipper ever in a decent ship. An’ funniest of all she jest naturally goes an’ flings herself at him like a dolphin at a bait, landin’ right in his arms. Fer, ye see, that old hooker Spitfire warn’t so badly used up as the engineer thought, an’ when the sea went down she didn’t make no more water to speak of. The next mornin’ a vessel comes along an’ lends a hand to the dinky little feller aboard, an’ pretty soon the engine is a-goin’ an’ the ole ship is headin’ away on her course with one o’ the company’s ships alongside to see her through. There aint no salvage to pay, an’ all is taut as a gantline.”
Here Mr. Keon stopped and knocked the ashes from his pipe. The great rat he called Toby scampered down the hatchway as the bells struck off, warning us that the first watch was at hand.
“What became of the little captain?” asked the bos’n.
“Oh, that little feller got the finest ship in the company’s fleet. He’s commodore now, ye see,” said the second mate, “an’ we got ‘Peepin’ Shaw’ in his place.”
“Did they discharge the officers that deserted?” asked a sailor.
Mr. Keon looked sorrowfully at him and rose from the hatchway. Then he stopped a moment and fumbled his pipe.
“D’ye think second officers sech as me are plentiful abouts, hey?” he asked.
He was a powerfully built man and showed to some advantage in his working clothes of light duck.
“Second mates sech as me aint to be picked up everywhere, ye might know, an’ this ship has never had but one since she was launched,” and he went on the bridge for his watch on deck.