aboard, flapping a white strip of lantern-wick, and grinning.
"Zing," the captain began with a stern face; then stopped, and winked as if a weighty joke were to follow. "Zing, that's a fine mornin's work for a grown man."
The mate broadened his shining grin, much as a sleepy dog hastens the wagging of his tail at a word from the one beloved master. Then, after labor:—
"Better 'n nothin', cap'n," he retorted cheerfully.
"Yes, that's it," said Captain Christy; "better 'n nothin'. Well, let's lower away, Mr. Turner."
Together they lowered the dark mainsail, and made all snug. Deft, serious, a transfigured helper, Zwinglius was everywhere at once, working with swift economy of motion. When he had carried the boxes and chair into the cabin, shut the door, and hammered the peg home with his fist, he turned to find his captain waiting at the side. The old man ran his big, brown hand, in one passionate gesture, down over his bearded cheeks. Under
