"I don't say he ain't good enough for her. Maybe he is. But I 'ain't been realizing that she has growed up. When I found she was being courted it was like hitting a rock in a fairway. You are young, and you are around consid'able and know the actions of young folks. What's your advice?"

"I don't know anything about the circ.u.mstances, sir."

"But speaking generally," insisted Captain Candage. "I want to do what's right. There ain't many I can bring myself to ask. I'm a poor old fool, I'm afraid. Won't you kind of grab in on this, Captain Mayo? I do need a little advice." His rough hands trembled on his knees.

"If the young man is worthy--is the right sort," returned Mayo, in gentler tones, "I think you are making a great mistake by interfering."

"I'll go look that young fellow over--re-survey him, as ye might say,"

stated the skipper, after a moment's meditation.

"I don't know your daughter very well, sir, but I have much faith in her judgment. If I were you I'd allow her to pick her own husband."

"Thanks for that advice. I know it comes from a man who has shown that he knows exactly what to do in emergencies. I have changed my mind about her being courted, sir."

"Honest love isn't a question of money, Captain Candage. Many good girls are ruined by--" He was speaking bitterly and he checked himself. "Where is Captain Sinnett going to set us ash.o.r.e?"

"Maquoit. He is going to take his fish to the big market. But he said he would set us ash.o.r.e anywhere, and so I said Maquoit. I might as well be there as anywhere till I know what I'm going to do."

"Same thing holds good for me, I suppose. I don't feel like going to the city just yet."

Captain Sinnett came rolling into the alley, and when Mayo started to thank him for the trouble he was taking he raised in genial protest a hand which resembled in spread a split codfish.

"Trouble! It ain't trouble. Was going to call into Maquoit to ice up, anyway. I know my manners even if them yachting fellows didn't."

Captain Candage preserved the demeanor of innocence under Mayo's scrutiny.

"I've missed you off the fishing-grounds--didn't know you had gone on to a yacht, sir," pursued Captain Sinnett. "Hope to see you back into the fishing business again; that is, providing you don't go on one of them beam trawlers that are hooking up the bottom of the Atlantic and sp'iling the thing entire for us all."

"I agree with you about the trawler; that's why I quit. And as to yachting, I think I'll go after a real man's job, sir!"

"So do! You'll be contenteder," replied the other, significance in his tones.

Mayo knew that his secret had been exposed, but he had no relish for an argument with Captain Candage on the subject of garrulity. He finished his coffee and went forward where the fishermen were coiling the gang-lines into the tubs.

The fisherman made port at Maquoit late in the afternoon, and was warped to her berth at the ice-house wharf.

The castaways went ash.o.r.e.

Maquoit was a straggling hamlet at the head of a cove which nicked the coast-line.

Captain Candage, an Apple-treer, who knew every hole alongsh.o.r.e where refuge from stress of weather was afforded, led his party through the village with confidence.

"There's a widder here who will put us up for what time we want to stay--and be glad of the money. I knowed her husband in the coasting trade. I like to get into a place like this that 'ain't been sp'iled by them cussed rusticators and the prices they are willing to pay,"

he confided to Mayo. He slyly exhibited a wallet that was stuffed with paper money. "I ain't busted, but there's no sense in paying more 'n five dollars a week anywhere for vittles and bed. She will make plenty off'n us at that rate. You just let me do the d.i.c.kering."

The widow proved to be a kindly soul who, in the first excitement of her sympathetic nature, resolutely refused to consider the matter of any payment whatever.

"You are shipwrecked, and my poor husband's body wouldn't rest quiet wherever it is in the Atlantic Ocean if I grabbed money from shipwrecked folks."

However, in the end, Captain Candage worked her up from three dollars to five per week, and she took Polly Candage into her heart and into the best chamber.

Captain Mayo came back to supper after a moody stroll about the village.

Skipper Candage was patrolling the widow's front yard and was exhibiting more cheerfulness.

"It's G.o.d's Proverdunce and your grit that has saved us, sir. I have come out of my numb condition and sense it all. What's your plans?"

"I don't seem to be able to make any just yet."

"I'm going to stay right here for a spell, and shall keep Dolph and Otie with me. We shall be here on the coast where we can hear of something to grab in on. As soon as Polly gets straightened around I'll let her go home to her aunt. But, of course, hanging around here doesn't offer you any attractions, sir. You're looking for bigger game than we are."

"I have about made up my mind to leave in the morning on the stage. I'll go somewhere."

The widow tapped her knuckles on the gla.s.s of a near-by window.

"Supper!" she announced. "Hurry in whilst it's hot!"

"I always do my best pondering on a full stomach," said Captain Candage.

"And I smell cream-o'-tartar biskits and I saw her hulling field strorb'ries. Better look on the bright side of things along with me, Captain Mayo."

Captain Mayo failed to find any bright side as he turned his affairs over in his mind. He had only a meager stock of money. He had used his modest earnings in settling the debts of the family estate. The outlook for employment was vague--he could not estimate to what extent the hostility of Julius Marston might block his efforts, provided the magnate troubled himself to descend to meddle with the affairs of such an inconspicuous person. His poor little romance with Alma Marston had been left in a shocking condition. He did not talk at the supper-table, and the widow's wholesome food was like ashes in his mouth. He went out and sat on the porch of the widow's cottage and looked into the sunset and saw nothing in its rosy hues to give him encouragement for his own future.

Polly Candage came timidly and sat down beside him. "Father says you think of leaving in the morning!"

"There's nothing for me here."

"Probably not."

A long silence followed.

"I suppose you don't care to have me talk to you, Captain Mayo?"

"I'll listen to you gratefully, any time."

"I'm only a country girl. I don't know how to say it--how to tell you I'm so sorry for you!"

"That one little pat on my hand to-day, it was better than words."

"It's all I can think about--your unhappiness."

"That touches me because I know that you have enough sorrow of your own."

"Sorrow!" She opened her eyes wide.

"Perhaps I have no business speaking of it," he returned, with considerable embarra.s.sment.

"And yet I have been so bold as to speak to you!"

There was a touch of reproach in her voice, and therefore he ventured: "Your father told me--I tried to stop him, but he went on and said--Well, I understand! But I have some consolation for you and I'm going to speak out. He says he is going to allow you to marry your young man."

"Did he dare to talk such matters over with you?"