“But,” said our friend, “that’s not the worst of it, Captain. At this time three days hence the devil will fetch me home.” “Good Lord!” groaned the old man. “Here’s a nice hurrah’s nest to happen aboard my ship. But come now,” he went on, “did the devil give you no chance--no saving-clause like? Just think quietly for a moment.” “Yes, Captain,” said our friend, “just when I made the deal, there came a whisper in my ear. And,” he said, speaking very quietly, so as not to let the mate hear, “if I can give the devil three jobs to do which he cannot do, why, then, Captain,” he says, “I’m saved, and that deed of mine is cancelled.” Well, at this the old man grinned and said, “You just leave things to me, my son. _I’ll_ fix the devil for you. Aft there, one o’ you, and relieve the wheel. Now you run forrard, and have a good watch below, and be quite easy in your mind, for I’ll deal with the devil for you. You rest and be easy.” And so that day goes by, and the next, and the one after that, and the one after that was the day the Devil was due. Soon as eight bells was made in the morning watch, the old man called all hands aft. “Men,” he said, “I’ve got an all-hands job for you this forenoon.” “Mr. Mate,” he cried, “get all hands on to the main-tops’l halliards and bowse the sail stiff up and down.” So they passed along the halliards, and took the turns off, and old John Chantyman piped up-- There’s a Black Ball clipper Comin’ down the river. And away the yard went to the mast-head till the bunt-robands jammed in the sheave. “Very well that,” said the old man. “Now get my dinghy off o’ the half-deck and let her drag alongside.” So they did that, too. “Very well that,” said the old man. “Now forrard with you, to the chain-locker, and rouse out every inch of chain you find there.” So forrard they went, and the chain was lighted up and flaked along the deck all clear for running. “Now, Chips,” says the old man to the carpenter, “just bend the spare anchor to the end of that chain, and clear away the fo’c’s’le rails ready for when we let go.” So they did this, too. “Now,” said the old man, “get them tubs of slush from the galley. Pass that slush along there, doctor. Very well that. Now turn to, all hands, and slush away every link in that chain a good inch thick in grease.” So they did that, too, and wondered what the old man meant. “Very well that,” cries the old man. “Now get below all hands! Chips, on to the fo’c’s’le head with you and stand by! I’ll keep the deck, Mr. Mate! Very well that.” So all hands tumbled down below; Chips took a fill o’ baccy to leeward of the capstan, and the old man walked the weather-poop looking for a sign of hell-fire. It was still dead calm--but presently, towards six bells, he raised a black cloud away to leeward, and saw the glimmer of the lightning in it; only the flashes were too red, and came too quick. “Now,” says he to himself, “stand by.”