Captain Barber, with as much mourning as he could muster at such short notice, was waiting on the quay. His weather-beaten face was not quite so ruddy as usual, and Fraser, with a strong sense of shame, fancied, as the old man clambered aboard the schooner, that his movements were slower than of yore. “This is a dreadful business, Jack,” he said, giving him a hearty grip, when at length he stood aboard the schooner. “Shocking,” said Fraser, reddening. “I’ve spoken to have the coast-guards look out for him,” said the old man. “He may come ashore, and I know he’d be pleased to be put in the churchyard decent.” “I’m sure he would,” said Fraser. “I suppose there’s no chance of his having been picked up. I slung a life-belt overboard.” Captain Barber shook his head. “It’s a mysterious thing,” he said slowly; “a man who’d been at sea all his life to go and tumble overboard in calm weather like that.” “There’s a lot that’s mysterious about it, sir,” said Joe, who had drawn near, followed by the others. “I can say that, because I was on deck only a few minutes before it happened.” “Pity you didn’t stay up,” said Captain Barber, ruefully. “So I thought, sir,” said Joe, “but the mate saw me on deck and made me go below. Two minutes afterwards I heard a splash, and the skipper was overboard.” There was a meaning in his words that there was no mistaking. The old man, looking round at the faces, saw that the mate’s was very pale. “What did he make you go below for?” he asked, turning to Joe. “Better ask him, sir,” replied the seaman. “I wanted to stay up on deck, but I ’ad to obey orders. If I ’ad stayed on deck, he wouldn’t have been cap’n.” Captain Barber turned and regarded the mate fixedly; the mate, after a vain attempt to meet his gaze, lowered his eyes to the deck. “What do you say to all this?” enquired Barber, slowly. “Nothing,” replied the mate. “I did send Joe below and the skipper fell overboard a minute or two afterwards. It’s quite true.” “Fell?” enquired Captain Barber. “Fell,” repeated the other, and looked him squarely in the eyes. For some time Captain Barber said nothing, and the men, finding the silence irksome, shuffled uneasily. “Fred saved your life once,” said Barber, at length. “He did,” replied Fraser. The old man turned and paced slowly up and down the deck. “He was my sister’s boy,” he said, halting in front of the mate, “but he was more like my son. His father and mother were drownded too, but they went down fair and square in a gale. He stuck by his ship, and she stuck by him, God bless her.” Fraser nodded. “I’m obliged to you for bringing my ship from London,” said Barber, slowly. “I sha’n’t want you to take ’er back. I sha’n’t want you to stay in ’er at all. I don’t want to see you again.” “That’s as you please,” said Fraser, trying to speak unconcernedly. “It’s your ship, and it’s for you to do as you like about her. I’ll put my things together now.”