“We want your pore sinful soul,” said Dick with ecstasy. “Ay, an’ we’ll have it,” said Joe, with deep conviction. “So we will,” said the other two, closing their eyes and smiling rapturously; “so we will.” The skipper, alarmed, despite himself, at their confidence, turned a startled face to the mate. “If you could see it now,” continued Dick impressively, “you’d be frightened at it. If you could—” “Get to your own end of the ship,” spluttered the indignant skipper. “Get, before I kick you there!” “Better let Sam have a try,” said one of the other men, calmly ignoring the fury of the master; “his efforts have been wonderfully blessed. Come here, Sam.” “There’s a time for everything” said Sam cautiously. “Let’s go for’ard and do what we can for him among ourselves.” They moved off reluctantly, Dick throwing such affectionate glances at the skipper over his shoulders that he nearly choked with rage. “I won’t have it!” he said fiercely; “I’ll knock it out of ’em.” “You can’t,” said the mate. “You can’t knock sailor men about nowadays. The only thing you can do is to get rid of ’em.” “I don’t want to do that,” was the growling reply. “They’ve been with me a long time, and they’re all good men. Why don’t they have a go at you, I wonder?” “_Me?_” said the mate, in indignant surprise. “Why, I’m a Seventh Day Baptist! They don’t want to waste their time over me. I’m all right.” “You’re a pretty Seventh Day Baptist, you are!” replied the skipper. “Fust I’ve heard of it.” “You don’t understand about such things,” said the mate. “It must be a very easy religion,” continued the skipper. “I don’t make a show of it, if that’s what you mean,” rejoined the other warmly. “I’m one o’ them as believe in ’iding my light under a bushel.” “A pint pot ’ud do easy,” sneered the skipper. “It’s more in your line, too.” “Anyway, the men reckernise it,” said the mate loftily. “They don’t go an’ sit in their red jerseys an’ hold mothers’ meetings over me.” “I’ll knock their blessed heads off!” growled the skipper. “I’ll learn ’em to insult me!” “It’s all for your own good,” said the other. “They mean it kindly. Well, I wish ’em luck.” With these hardy words he retired, leaving a seething volcano to pace the deck, and think over ways and means of once more reducing his crew to what he considered a fit and proper state of obedience and respect. The climax was reached at tea-time, when an anonymous hand was thrust beneath the skylight, and a full-bodied tract fluttered wildly down and upset his tea. “That’s the last straw!” he roared, fishing out the tract and throwing it on the floor. “I’ll read them chaps a lesson they won’t forget in a hurry, and put a little money in my pocket at the same time. I’ve got a little plan in my ’ed as come to me quite sudden this afternoon. Come on deck, Bob.” Bob obeyed, grinning, and the skipper, taking the wheel from Sam, sent him for the others.