The mate smiled safely in the darkness, the skipper’s management consisting chiefly of slavish obedience.
“I’ve got a cabinet fortygraph of him for the cabin mantel-piece, Jack,” continued the wily father. “He gave it to me o’ purpose. She’ll see that when she won’t see the clerk, an’ by-and-bye she’ll fall into our way of thinking. Anyway, she’s going to stay here till she does.”
“You know your way about, cap’n,” said the mate, in pretended admiration.
The skipper laid his finger on his nose, and winked at the mainmast. “There’s few can show me the way, Jack,” he answered softly; “very few. Now I want you to help me too; I want you to talk to her a great deal.”
“Ay, ay,” said the mate, winking at the mast in his turn.
“Admire the fortygraph on the mantel-piece,” said the skipper.
“I will,” said the other.
“Tell her about a lot o’ young girls you know as married young middle-aged men, an’ loved ’em more an’ more every day of their lives,” continued the skipper.
“Not another word,” said the mate. “I know just what you want. She shan’t marry the clerk if I can help it.”
The other turned and gripped him warmly by the hand. “If ever you are a father your elf, Jack,” he said with emotion, “I hope as how somebody’ll stand by you as you’re standing by me.”