“Sick, hey?” he grunted, “and not a capful of wind stirrin'. You're a healthy sailor! I thought I'd shipped a man, but I see 'twas only a sassy baby. My uncle Labe had a good cure for seasickness. You take a big hunk of fat salt pork, dip it in molasses, and--” “Oh, d-o-n-'t!” Another spasm. “Dip it in molasses,” repeated Captain Eri. “Don't, Cap! PLEASE don't!” “Another thing a sailor learns is not to call his skipper 'Cap.' A fo'mast hand always says 'Aye, aye, sir,' when his off'cer speaks to him. Understand that?” “Y-e-s. Oh, Lord!” “WHAT?” “Ye--I mean aye, aye.” “Aye, aye, WHAT?” “Aye, aye, SIR! OH, dear me!” “That's better. Now pick up them lines.” Well, 'twas a dreadful forenoon for Josiah; one not to be forgotten. The boat rolled unceasingly, his head ached, and pulling the heavy cod made his back and shoulders lame; also, he was wet and cold. The other boats scattered about the fishing grounds pulled up their anchors and started for home, but Captain Eri did not budge. At noon he opened his lunch basket again, and munched serenely. The sight of the greasy ham sandwiches was too much for the “able seaman.” He suffered a relapse and, when it was over, tumbled on the seat which encircled the cockpit and, being completely worn out, went fast asleep. The Captain watched him for a minute or two, smiled in a not unkindly way, and, going into the cabin, brought out an old pea jacket and some other wraps with which he covered the sleeper. Then he went back to his fishing. When Josiah awoke the Mary Ellen was heeled over on her side, her sail as tight as a drumhead. The wind was whistling through the cordage, and the boat was racing through seas that were steel-blue and angry, with whitecaps on their crests. The sun was hidden by tumbling, dust-colored clouds. The boy felt weak and strangely humble; the dreadful nausea was gone. Captain Eri, standing at the tiller, regarded him sternly, but there was the suspicion of a twinkle in his eye. “Feelin' better?” he asked. “Ye--aye, aye, sir.” “Humph! Want to smoke again. Pipe right there on the thwart.” “No, thank you, sir.” It was some time before anything more was said. Josiah was gazing at the yellow sand-cliffs that, on every tack, grew nearer. At length the Captain again addressed him. “Perez ever tell you 'bout our fust v'yage? Never did, hey? Well, I will. Him and me run away to sea together, you know.”