“That’s me, my lad,” said the skipper, looking up. “I’ve got a letter for yer,” said the boy, holding it out. The skipper held out his hands and caught it; and, after reading the contents, felt his beard and looked at the mate. “It never rains but it pours,” he said figuratively. “What’s up?” inquired the other. “Ere’s my old woman coming now,” said the skipper. “Sent a note to say she’s getting ready as fast as she can, an’ I’m not to sail on any account till she comes.” “That’s awkward,” said the mate, who felt that he was expected to say something. “It never struck me to tell her your wife was coming,” said the skipper. “Where we’re to put ’em both I don’t know. I s’pose it’s quite certain your wife’ll come?” “Certain,” said the mate. “No chance of ’er changing ’er mind?” suggested the skipper, looking away from him. “Not now she’s got that bonnet,” replied the mate. “I s’pose there’s no chance of your wife changing hers?” The skipper shook his head. “There’s one thing,” he said hopefully, “they’ll be nice company for each other. They’ll have to ’ave the state-room between ’em. It’s a good job my wife ain’t as big as yours.” “We’ll be able to play four ’anded wist sometimes,” said the mate, as he followed the skipper below to see what further room could be made. “Crowded but jolly,” said the other. The two cabs drove up almost at the same moment while they were below, and Mrs. Bunnett’s cabman had no sooner staggered on to the jetty with her luggage than Mrs. Fillson’s arrived with hers. The two ladies, who were entire strangers, stood regarding each other curiously as they looked down at the bare deck of the _Foam_. “George!” cried Mrs. Fillson, who was a fine woman, raising her voice almost to a scream in the effort to make herself heard above the winch of a neighbouring steamer. It was unfortunate perhaps that both officers of the schooner bore the same highly-respectable Christian name. “_George!_” cried Mrs. Bunnett, glancing indignantly at the other lady. “_Ge-orge!_” cried Mrs. Fillson, returning her looks with interest. “Hussey,” said Mrs. Bunnett under her breath, but not very much under. “George!” There was no response. “_George!_” cried both ladies together. Still no response, and they made a louder effort. There was yet another George on board, in the fo’c’sle, and, in response to pushes from curious friends below, he came up, and regarded the fair duettists open-mouthed. “What d’yer want?” he said, at length sheepishly. “Will you tell Captain Bunnett that his wife, Mrs. Bunnett, is here?” said that lady, a thin, little woman with bright black eyes. “Yes, mum,” said the seaman, and was hurrying off when Mrs. Fillson called him back. “Will you tell Mr. Fillson that his wife, Mrs. Fillson, is up here?” she said politely. “All right, mum,” said the other, and went be-low to communicate the pleasing tidings. Both husbands came up on deck hastily, and a glance served to show them how their wives stood.