He kept silence until Woolwich was passed, and they were running along with all sails set, and then, his curiosity being somewhat excited, he called old Dick to him, with the amiable intention of a little banter. “What’s this I hear about you j’ining the Salvation Army?” he asked. “It’s quite true, sir,” said Dick. “I feel so happy, you can’t think—we all do.” “Glory!” said one of the other men, with enthusiastic corroboration. “Seems like the measles,” said the skipper facetiously. “Four of you down with it at one time!” “It _is_ like the measles, sir,” said the old man impressively, “an’ I only hope as you’ll catch it yourself, bad.” “Hallelujah!” bawled the other man suddenly. “He’ll catch it.” “Hold that noise, you, Joe!” shouted the skipper sternly. “How dare you make that noise aboard ship?” “He’s excited, sir,” said Dick. “It’s love for you in ’is ’eart as does it.” “Let him keep his love to hisself,” said the skipper churlishly. “Ah! that’s just what we can’t do,” said Dick in high-pitched tones, which the skipper rightly concluded to be his preaching voice. “We can’t do it—an’ why can’t we do it? Becos we feel good, an’ we want you to feel good too. We want to share it with you. Oh, dear friend—” “That’s enough,” said the master of the _Elizabeth Ann_, sharply. “Don’t you go ‘dear friending’ me. Go for’ard! Go for’ard at once!” With a melancholy shake of his head the old man complied, and the startled skipper turned to the mate, who was at the wheel, and expressed his firm intention of at once stopping such behaviour on his ship. “You can’t do it,” said the mate firmly. “Can’t do it?” queried the skipper. “Not a bit of it,” said the other. “They’ve all got it bad, an’ the more you get at ’em the wuss they’ll be. Mark my words, best let ’em alone.” “I’ll hold my hand a bit and watch ’em,” was the reply; “but I’ve always been cap’n on my own ship, and I always will.” For the next twenty-four hours he retained his sovereignty undisputed, but on Sunday morning, after breakfast, when he was at the wheel, and the crew below, the mate, who had been forward, came aft with a strange grin struggling for development at the corners of his mouth. “What’s the matter?” inquired the skipper, regarding him with some disfavour. “They’re all down below with their red jerseys on,” replied the mate, still struggling, “and they’re holding a sort o’ consultation about the lost lamb, an’ the best way o’ reaching ’is ’ard ’eart.” “Lost lamb!” repeated the skipper unconcernedly, but carefully avoiding the other’s eye. “You’re the lost lamb,” said the mate, who always went straight to the point. “I won’t have it,” said the skipper excitably. “How dare they go on in this way? Go and send ’em up directly.” The mate, whistling cheerily, complied, and the four men, neatly attired in scarlet, came on deck. “Now, what’s all this nonsense about?” demanded the incensed man. “What do you want?”