The girl bit her lip, and was looking carefully round her, when they were both disturbed by the unseemly behaviour of the master of a passing craft. “Jack!” he yelled in a tone of strong amazement, “Jack!” “Halloa!” cried the mate. “Why didn’t you tell us?” yelled the other reproachfully. “Tell you what?” roared the mystified mate. The master of the other craft, holding on to the stays with one hand, jerked his thumb expressively towards Miss Cringle, and waited. “When was it?” he screamed anxiously, as he realised that his craft was rapidly carrying him out of earshot. The mate smiled feebly, and glanced uneasily at the girl, who, with a fine colour and an air of vast unconcern, was looking straight in front of her; and it was a relief to both of them when they found themselves hesitating and dodging in front of a schooner which was coming up. “Do you want all the river?” demanded the exasperated master of the latter vessel, running to the side as they passed. “Why don’t you drop anchor if you want to spoon?” “Perhaps you’d better let me take the wheel a bit,” said the mate, not without a little malice in his voice. “No; you can go an’ keep a look-out in the bows,” said the girl serenely. “It’ll prevent misunderstandings, too. Better take the potatoes with you and peel them for dinner.” The mate complied, and the voyage proceeded in silence, the steering being rendered a little nicer than usual by various nautical sparks bringing their boats a bit closer than was necessary in order to obtain a good view of the fair steersman. After dinner, the tide having turned and a stiff head-wind blowing, they brought up off Sheppey. It began to rain hard, and the crew of the _Osprey_, having made all snug above, retired to the cabin to resume their quarrel. “Don’t mind me,” said Miss Cringle scathingly, as the mate lit his pipe. “Well, I didn’t think you minded,” replied the mate; “the old man”— “Who?” interrupted Miss Cringle, in a tone of polite inquiry. “Captain Cringle,” said the mate, correcting himself, “smokes a great deal, and I’ve heard him say that you liked the smell of it.” “There’s pipes and pipes,” said Miss Cringle oracularly. The mate flung his on the floor and crunched it beneath his heel, then he thrust his hands in his pockets, and, leaning back, scowled darkly up at the rain as it crackled on the skylight. “If you are going to show off your nasty temper,” said the girl severely, “you’d better go forward. It’s not quite the thing after all for you to be down here—not that I study appearances much.” “I shouldn’t think you did,” retorted the mate, whose temper was rapidly getting the better of him. “I can’t think what your father was thinking of to let a pret—to let a girl like you come away like this.”