George nodded, and meditatively watched the other as he pushed back the fore-scuttle and drew it after him as he descended. Then a thought struck the mate, and he ran hastily forward and threw his weight on the scuttle just in time to frustrate the efforts of Joe and the boy, who were coming on deck to tell him a new ghost story. The confusion below was frightful, the skipper’s cry of “It’s only me, Joe,” not possessing the soothing effect which he intended. They calmed down at length, after their visitor had convinced them that he really was flesh and blood and fists, and the boy’s attention being directed to a small rug in the corner of the foc’s’le, the skipper took his bunk and was soon fast asleep. He slept so soundly that the noise of the vessel getting under way failed to rouse him, and she was well out in the open river when he awoke, and after cautiously protruding his head through the scuttle, ventured on deck. For some time he stood eagerly sniffing the cool, sweet air, and then, after a look round, gingerly approached the mate, who was at the helm. “Give me a hold on her,” said he. “You had better get below again, if you don’t want the missis to see you,” said the mate. “She’s gettin’ up—nasty temper she’s in too.” The skipper went forward grumbling. “Send down a good breakfast, George,” said he. To his great discomfort the mate suddenly gave a low whistle, and regarded him with a look of blank dismay. “Good gracious!” he cried, “I forgot all about it. Here’s a pretty kettle of fish—well, well.” “Forgot about what?” asked the skipper uneasily. “The crew take their meals in the cabin now,” replied the mate, “’cos the missis says it’s more cheerful for ’em, and she’s l’arning ’em to eat their wittles properly.” The skipper looked at him aghast. “You’ll have to smuggle me up some grub,” he said at length. “I’m not going to starve for nobody.” “Easier said than done,” said the mate. “The missis has got eyes like needles; still, I’ll do the best I can for you. Look out! Here she comes.” The skipper fled hastily, and, safe down below, explained to the crew how they were to secrete portions of their breakfast for his benefit. The amount of explanation required for so simple a matter was remarkable, the crew manifesting a denseness which irritated him almost beyond endurance. They promised, however, to do the best they could for him, and returned in triumph after a hearty meal, and presented their enraged commander with a few greasy crumbs and the tail of a bloater.