“Laura, I will not allow such a thing again. What would you think if I were to go aloft and haul over a buntline?”
“I should laugh, Aunt; I know I should,” and Miss Laura did laugh aloud, while the mate turned away to avoid showing his merriment at the comical idea of the widow overhauling buntlines.
“But really, Aunt, there is no danger in it, and Mrs. Brassey, in ‘Around the World in the Yacht Sunbeam,’ speaks of being drawn clear up to the mast-head in a bo’s’un’s chair. It is said, also, that Bernhardt climbed the rigging of a steamer one day when on her way to Australia.”
“Genius is always eccentric, my dear, and may do anything with impunity. But there—dinner is served. Let us go.”
One could not pass through the bark’s comfortable cabin without knowing that women were on board. The very arrangement of the chairs showed it. No matter how neat and tasteful a man may be—and Captain Maxwell was both—he can seldom give to a room or dwelling that indescribable air of home-like comfort and domesticity that a clever woman finds it so easy to impart. There was something cheerful in the appearance of the widow’s open work-box, with its pretty blue lining, and an anchor worked on the inside cover,—for Mrs. Evans affected everything nautical,—while a large rug or mat made of spun-yarn and sennit bore witness to her skill. The vessel’s name was neatly worked in the center. Several water-color paintings by Miss Laura ornamented the walls, and a globe of goldfish swung from the ceiling. An upright piano occupied the space between two doors. There was nothing especially elegant or luxurious, as the bark had never been intended for a passenger vessel, but everything was very pleasant and comfortable. The ladies had separate state-rooms, each of which contained but one berth, and was considerably larger than the average state-room on a passenger steamer.
After dinner, Captain Maxwell sent for Dick Lewis to come to the quarter-deck. This boy belonged to the mate’s watch, which was now off duty. He had not turned in, however, but could be seen with two others of the crew, washing his clothes in the lee scuppers.
It had rained hard the night before, and many of the hands availed themselves of the chance to catch the water for laundry purposes. Two lines were stretched from a starboard backstay to one on the port side, on which were hung shirts of various colors and patterns, patched overalls, towels, socks that had never been mates, and various other articles of apparel.
Dick came aft presently, and stood before the captain; a lanky, unprepossessing youth of sixteen or seventeen. A carroty head of hair, low forehead, white eyebrows and lashes, very pale complexion, and keen blue eyes which constantly shifted about—these were the most noticeable points of his appearance.
“Dick,” said Captain Maxwell, “for the second time within two weeks, you have put salt water in the fresh water tank. This must not happen again.”
“I must have put the funnel in the wrong hole, sir,” said Dick, not appearing much abashed.