“How nice it feels to be on a ship again!” said the girl, looking contentedly about her, as the mate brought up a canvas chair from below. “I used to go with my father sometimes when he was alive, but I haven’t been on a ship now for two years or more.” The mate, who was watching her closely, made no reply. He was thinking that a straw hat with scarlet flowers went remarkably well with the dark eyes and hair beneath it, and also that the deck of the schooner had never before seemed such an inviting place as it was at this moment. “Captain Flower keeps his ship in good condition,” said the visitor, somewhat embarrassed by his gaze. “He takes a pride in her,” said Fraser; “and it’s his uncle’s craft, so there’s no stint. She never wants for paint or repairs, and Flower’s as nice a man to sail under as one could wish. We’ve had the same crew for years.” “He’s very kind and jolly,” said the girl. “He’s one of the best fellows breathing,” said the mate, warmly; “he saved my life once—went overboard after me when we were doing over ten knots an hour, and was nearly drowned himself.” “That was fine of him,” said Miss Tyrell, eagerly. “He never told me anything about it, and I think that’s rather fine too. I like brave men. Have you ever been overboard after anybody?” Fraser shook his head somewhat despondently. “I’m not much of a swimmer,” said he. “But you’d go in for anybody if you saw them drowning?” persisted Miss Tyrell, in a surprised voice. “I don’t know, i’m sure,” said Fraser. “I hope I should.” “Do you mean to say,” said Miss Tyrell, severely, “that if I fell into the river here, for instance, you wouldn’t jump in and try to save me?” “Of course I should,” said Fraser, hotly. “I should jump in after you if I couldn’t swim a stroke.” Miss Tyrell, somewhat taken aback, murmured her gratification. “I should go in after you,” continued the mate who was loath to depart from the subject, “if it was blowing a gale, and the sea full of sharks.” “What a blessing it is there are no sharks round our coast,” said Miss Tyrell, in somewhat of a hurry to get away from the mate’s heroism. “Have you ever seen one?” “Saw them in the Indian Ocean when I was an apprentice,” replied Fraser. “You’ve been on foreign-going ships then?” said the girl. “I wonder you gave it up for this.” “This suits me better,” said Fraser; “my father’s an old man, and he wanted me home. I shall have a little steamer he’s got an interest in as soon as her present skipper goes, so it’s just as well for me to know these waters.” In this wise they sat talking until evening gave way to night, and the deck of the _Foam_ was obscured in shadow. Lamps were lit on the wharves, and passing craft hung out their side-lights. The girl rose to her feet. “I won’t wait any longer; I must be going,” she said. “He may be back at any moment,” urged the mate. “No, I’d better go, thank you,” replied the girl; “it’s getting late. I don’t like going home alone.”