“That ain’t no bigger that this one,” said Tommy. “You git it out,” said the skipper, with a knowing toss of his head. “Ah, there we are. Now go in my state-room and take those off.” The wondering Tommy, who thought that great grief had turned his kinsman’s brain, complied, and emerged shortly afterwards in a blanket, bringing his clothes under his arm. “Now, do you know what I’m going to do?” inquired the skipper, with a big smile. “No.” “Fetch me the scissors, then. Now do you know what I’m going to do?” “Cut up the two suits and make ’em into one,” hazarded the horror-stricken Tommy. “Here, stop it! Leave off!” The skipper pushed him impatiently off, and, placing the clothes on the table, took up the scissors, and, with a few slashing strokes, cut the garments into their component parts. “What am _I_ to wear,” said Tommy, beginning to blubber. “You didn’t think of that?” “What are you to wear, you selfish young pig?” said the skipper sternly. “Always thinking about yourself. Go and git some needles and thread, and if there’s any left over, and you’re a good boy, I’ll see whether I can’t make something for you out of the leavings.” “There ain’t no needles here,” whined Tommy, after a lengthened search. “Go down the fo’c’sle and git the case of sail-makers’ needles, then,” said the skipper, “Don’t let anyone see what you’re after, an’ some thread.” “Well, why couldn’t you let me go in my clothes before you cut ’em up,” moaned Tommy. “I don’t like going up in this blanket. They’ll laugh at me.” “You go at once!” thundered the skipper, and, turning his back on him, whistled softly, and began to arrange the pieces of cloth. “Laugh away, my lads,” he said cheerfully, as an uproarious burst of laughter greeted the appearance of Tommy on deck. “Wait a bit.” He waited himself for nearly twenty minutes, at the end of which time Tommy, treading on his blanket, came flying down the companion-ladder, and rolled into the cabin. “There ain’t a needle aboard the ship,” he said solemnly, as he picked himself up and rubbed his head. “I’ve looked everywhere.” “What?” roared the skipper, hastily concealing the pieces of cloth. “Here, Ted! Ted!” “Ay, ay, sir!” said Ted, as he came below. “I want a sail-maker’s needle,” said the skipper glibly. “I’ve got a rent in this skirt.” “I broke the last one yesterday,” said Ted, with an evil grin. “Any other needle then,” said the skipper, trying to conceal his emotion. “I don’t believe there’s such a thing aboard the ship,” said Ted, who had obeyed the mate’s thoughtful injunction. “_Nor_ thread. I was only saying so to the mate yesterday.” The skipper sank again to the lowest depths, waved him away, and then, getting on a corner of the locker, fell into a gloomy reverie. “It’s a pity you do things in such a hurry,” said Tommy, sniffing vindictively. “You might have made sure of the needle before you spoiled my clothes. There’s two of us going about ridiculous now.”