“She ain't the only funny thing along shore this mornin', nuther,” announced Theophilus Black, one of the fishermen. “Charlie Burgess just come down along and he says there's a ship's longboat hauled up on the beach, 'bout a mile 'n a half t'other side the mouth of the herrin' crick yonder. Oars in her and all. And she ain't no boat that b'longs round here, is she, Charlie?” “No, Thoph, she ain't,” was the reply. “Make anything out of her, cap'n?” Captain Zeb, who had been inspecting the anchored vessel through the spyglass, lowered the latter and seemed puzzled. “Not much,” he answered. “Blessed if she don't look abandoned to me. Can't see a sign of life aboard her.” “We couldn't neither,” said Thoph. “We was just cal'latin' to go off to her when Charlie come and told us about the longboat. I guess likely we can go now; it's pretty nigh smooth as a pond. You'll take an oar, won't you, Noah?” “I can't leave the light very well. My wife went over to the village last night. You and Charlie and Bill go. Want to go, too, Zeb?” “No, I'll stay here, I guess. The old lady made me promise to keep my feet dry afore I left the house.” “You want to go, Mr. Ellery? Lots of room.” The minister was tempted. The sea always had a fascination for him and the mystery of the strange ship was appealing. “Sure I won't be in the way?” “No, no! 'course you won't,” said Burgess. “Come right along. You set in the bow, if you don't mind gettin' sprinkled once in a while. I'll steer and Thoph and Bill'll row. That'll be enough for one dory. If we need more, we'll signal. Heave ahead.” The surf, though low for that season of the year, looked dangerous to Ellery, but his companions launched the dory with the ease which comes of experience. Burgess took the steering oar and Thoph and “Bill,” the latter a lobsterman from Wellmouth Neck, bent their broad backs for the long pull. The statement concerning the pondlike smoothness of the sea was something of an exaggeration. The dory climbed wave after wave, long and green and oily, at the top of each she poised, tipped and slid down the slope. The minister, curled up in the bow on a rather uncomfortable cushion of anchor and roding, caught glimpses of the receding shore over the crests behind. One minute he looked down into the face of Burgess, holding the steering oar in place, the next the stern was high above him and he felt that he was reclining on the back of his neck. But always the shoulders of the rowers moved steadily in the short, deep strokes of the rough water oarsman, and the beach, with the white light and red-roofed house of the keeper, the group beside it, and Captain Zeb's horse and chaise, grew smaller and less distinct. “Humph!” grunted Charlie. “What's the matter?” asked Thoph. The steersman, who was staring hard in the direction they were going, scowled. “Humph!” he grunted again. “I swan to man, fellers, I believe she IS abandoned!”