“I ask you--I beg you--I have made up my mind! I must have it over with.” “Don't have hysterics! This is no thing to be rushed.” “You must.” “You're talking to a captain aboard his own vessel, ma'am!” From Mayo's choking throat came some sort of sound and the girl glanced in his direction, but it was a hasty and indifferent gaze. Her own affairs were engrossing her. He reeled back into the little room, and the swing of the schooner shut the door. “You are captain! You have the power! That's why I am talking to you, sir!” “But when you talked with me a little while ago you were crawfishing!” was Captain Downs's blunt objection. “I am sorry I have been so imprudent. I ought not to be here. I have said so. I do too many things on impulse. Now I want to be married!” “More impulse, eh?” “I must be able to face my father.” There was silence in the saloon. Mayo shoved trembling fingers into his mouth and bit upon them to keep back what his horrified reason warned him would be a scream of protest. In spite of what his eyes and ears told him, it all seemed to be some sort of hideous unreality. “It's a big responsibility,” proceeded Captain Downs, mumbling his words and talking half to himself in his uncertainty. “I've been trying to get some light on it from another--from a man who ought to understand more about it than what I do. It's too much of a problem for a man to wrassle with all alone.” He turned his back on them, gazed at the stateroom door, tipped his cap awry, and scratched his head more vigorously than he had in his past ponderings. “Say, you in there! Mate!” he called, clumsily preserving Mayo's incognito. “I'm in a pinch. Say what you really think!” There was no word from the stateroom. “You're an unprejudiced party,” insisted the skipper. “You have good judgment. Now what?” “Who is that, in there?” demanded Bradish. “Why should this person, whoever he is, have any-thing to say about my affairs?” asked the girl. “Because I'm asking him to say!” yelped the skipper, showing anger. “I'm running this! Don't try to tell me my own business!” He walked toward the door. “Speak up, mate!” “It's an insult to me--asking strangers about my private affairs!” The protest of the girl was a furious outburst. “I resent it, captain! Most bitterly resent it,” stated Bradish. The old skipper walked back toward them. “Resent it as much as you condemned like, sir! You're here asking favors of me. I want to do what is right for all concerned. You ought to be married--I admit that. But what sort of a position does it leave me in? Are you going to tell me this girl's name?” “I'm Alma Marston!” She volleyed the name at him with hysterical violence, but he did not seem to be impressed. “I am Julius Marston's daughter!” The skipper looked her up and down. “Now you will be so good as to proceed about your duty!” she commanded, haughtily.