The cod bit almost immediately, and for ten minutes the work was exciting and lively. The Captain, watching from the corner of his eye, noticed that his assistant's pipe was wheezing less regularly, and that his lines were thrown over more and more listlessly. At length he said, “Haven't stopped smokin' so quick, have you? What's the matter--gone out? Here's a match.” “I guessed I've smoked enough for now. I can't fish so well when I'm smokin'.” “Bosh! If you want to be a reel sailor you must smoke all the time. Light up.” Reluctantly the boy obeyed, and puffed with feverish energy. Also he swallowed with vigor. The cod smelt fishy; so did the bait, and the catboat rolled and rolled. Suddenly Josiah pulled in his lines, and took the pipe from his lips. “What's the matter?” inquired the watchful skipper. “I--I guess I won't fish any more, Cap. Kind of slow sport, ain't it? Guess I'll go in there and take a snooze.” “I guess you won't! You shipped to fish, and you're goin' to fish. Pick up them lines.” The boy sullenly turned toward the cabin door. Was he, who had just declared himself independent of school restraint, he who had once been the thorn in the flesh of every policeman in the --th ward, to be ordered about by this Cape Cod countryman! “Aw, go chase yourself!” he said contemptuously. A minute after, when he picked himself up from the heap of slimy fish in the bottom of the boat, he saw the Captain standing solidly on one cowhide-shod foot, while the other was drawn easily back and rested on its toe. When Josiah recovered his breath, the burst of bad language with which he assailed his companion did credit to his street bringing up. It was as short as it was fierce, however, and ended amid the cod and the mussels from the overturned bait bucket. But, as the Captain said afterwards, he was “spunky” and rose again, incoherent with rage. “You--you--I'll kill you!” he shrieked. “You promised not to touch me, you lyin' old--” He tried to get out of the way, but didn't succeed, and this time merely sat up and sobbed as Captain Eri said in even tones: “No, I'm not lyin'. I promised not to lay a hand on you in anger, that's all. Fust place, I don't kick with my hands, and, second place, I ain't angry. Now, then, pick up them lines.” The “able seaman” was frightened. This sort of treatment was new to him. He judged it best to obey now and “get square” later on. He sulkily picked up the codlines, and threw the hooks overboard. Captain Eri, calmly resuming his fishing, went on to say, “The fust thing a sailor has to l'arn is to obey orders. I see you've stopped smokin'. Light up.” “I don't want to.” “Well, I want you TO. Light up.” “I won't. Oh, yes, I will!” He eyed the threatening boot fearfully and lit the awful pipe with shaking fingers. But he had taken but a few puffs when it went over the side, and it seemed to Josiah that the larger half of himself went with it. The Captain watched the paroxysm grimly.