“The old man, you see, had been getting lonely, and had taken to carrying large invoices of grog, which is bound to break a man in the long run.
“One day at the dock Moll came along and inquired for the skipper. The old man saw her coming, and bawled out, ‘For Heaven’s sake, Mr. Enlis, don’t let her come aboard!’ and dived below.
“I ran to the gang-plank as she started over and said, ‘Captain’s gone up-town, and there ain’t no visitors allowed.’
“‘Oh, there ain’t?’ she said sort of sweetly, and she screwed up her little slits of eyes. ‘If that’s the case, you may consider me one of the crew, for I’ve got a notion they want a stewardess aboard.’
“‘There ain’t no passengers, so get back on the dock and obey orders!’ And I planted myself athwart the plank.
“Well, sir, if you ever seen a change come over a woman in three shakes of a sheet-rope you ought to seen her.
“‘What!’ she yelled. ‘You stop me from coming aboard a ship in this free an’ easy country of America? Git out o’ the way, you slab-sided, herring-gutted son of a wind-jammer, or I’ll run ye down an’ cut ye in two.’ And she bore down on me under full sail.
“She carried a full cargo, and I stepped down on the main-deck, for, after all, that gang-plank was too narrow a subject for such broad-minded folk as Moll and me to discuss on the spur of the moment.
“She never gave me a look, but steered straight for the cabin and disappeared.
“There was a most uncommon noise, and I saw the skipper’s head pop up the hatchway. But in a moment he was drawn slowly downward, and as he turned his face he looked like a drowning man sinking for the last time.