"Your capitals do not tower enough," said Tom Horn; "your round letters are too full in the belly, and your loops are squat." He peered at Anthony over the great ledger, the candle on either side toning out the transparent quality of his skin but adding to the worn expression; the shadows made the deep-set eyes seem deeper, the hope in them more despairing. "To give smoothness to your hand," said he, "you should study some one who took pride in such things." He nodded, his gaze holding to the young man's face. "Back before my day with the firm's books, there was a man of the name of Lucas who wrote a very useful hand. And Carberry, who came after him, also had a well-ordered pen. You would do well to give attention to both; but, of the two, Lucas would give you most for your effort." "I have not yet come to Lucas's period in the books," said Anthony; "nor yet Carberry's. But when I do I'll remember what you say." The winter drew on, a series of bitter nights and gray, wind-driven days; the report came that the bay was a mass of great floes, and that sledges heavily burdened were venturing a mile or more from shore on either side. The roads were filled with hard-packed snow; wheeled vehicles had not been seen for weeks. Then one evening there walked into the counting-room of Rufus Stevens' Sons one Corkery, mate of the firm's ship _General Stark_, and, in a brief seaman-like way, told how the vessel was ice-bound at New Castle and from all appearances would remain so until the coming of spring. This news caused Anthony to walk the floor; for the _Stark_ was laden with hides, drugs, and sugar, and the market for these things was brisk. The ship should never have ventured into the bay. It seemed that Captain Small had managed her indifferently. "Captain Small is ill of a lung fever," said Corkery. "He hasn't set foot on deck since we left Hatteras." "As mate," said Anthony, "you took his place. When you saw the floes, you should have headed the vessel for New York. With the merchandise landed there we'd have contrived a way to deal with it." Corkery was a blunt man, with no affectation of speech. "With a master tumbling about on his bed, and praying to God, and raving about things that must have passed in his boyhood, I was glad to arrive, as near as I could, at the place called for in the ship's papers," said he. "You here in the counting-room can talk of markets easily enough, for you are always where you can watch them; also, you can talk offhand of changing a ship's destination, for you've no one to answer to if you've guessed wrong." Anthony smiled and nodded, for he knew the mate spoke truth. "I hope all that could be done for Captain Small has been done," said he. "He is ashore at New Castle, at the house of a doctor in the place, and is being well seen to," said Corkery.