“Mates, I have seen that craft before,” he said decidedly, making a glass of his two hands to look through. “When, coxswain, and whar?” asked an old salt, with gray hair and a complexion like the hide of an elephant. “It was when I was on leave some months ago and took a run in my brother’s schooner that trades on the coast of Maine. “I saw that craft, I am dead certain, come into the port of B----, and she came then in a living gale, and had only two men and a boy on board of her. “The boy was at the helm, and ran her up to the dock in great shape. “I was told that he carried the mail between some of the ports on the coast, and generally went in a surf-skiff in any kind of weather, but sometimes came up to the town with a load of fish, which he had that day. “Several days after he came up to town in his surf-skiff and I made his acquaintance, and if that’s his craft then he’s the one as has the tiller. “I’ll get my glass and take an observation,” and Coxswain Jack Judson went below, but immediately returned with a very handsome glass, which had been presented to him by his brother of the trading schooner. He took a steady look, and said decidedly: “Mates, that’s the craft, for a month’s pay it is, and it’s the boy at the helm for another!” “Waal, what is he doin’ in these waters, coxswain?” asked a seaman. “I don’t know, but did you ever see a craft better handled?” All admitted that they never had, while an old sailor growled forth: “He’s trying to show off, and he’ll carry his sticks out of the craft yet before he can drop anchor. These young sailors is allus fools.” “No, he won’t hurt her, and he isn’t any fool, either, for he knows the craft and what she’ll do when he puts her to it. “I don’t think he’s trying to show off, for that isn’t like him, only he’s running under what sail he had up when the gale struck him. “You see now there are four men aboard, counting the boy as a man. “Every rope is where it belongs, the crew are at their posts and they are not at all uneasy, from their looks, while there is a gray-head among ’em. “They all seem to be enjoying the run, looking at the scenery and unmindful that they have got everybody watching them. “Mates, I’ll tell you a story of that lad, for I know him now without looking through my glass. “His name is Mark Merrill, and I saw him stand to fight a gang of five young roughs who set upon him,” and Jack Judson told the story of how Scott Clemmons and Ben Birney had smashed the toy ship which Mark Merrill had taken up to sell in B----, to get money to pay the doctor for going to see his mother. As he was talking the schooner swept by in splendid style, winning a murmur of admiration from all on board the vessel of war, and when she came to an anchorage Jack Judson said with enthusiasm: “He’s let go his mudhooks, and didn’t carry a stick or inch of canvas away, either. “Yes, he’s my lad, and I’m going to ask leave to go and see him, too.” CHAPTER XVIII. STRANGELY MET.