Now, unhappily for Jo Grain, the "old grampus" chanced at that very time to be sunning himself, and enjoying his pipe on the other side of the pier-wall, and heard distinctly what Jo said. Moreover, there was some truth in what Grime had said about the old skipper looking down on the young fisherman's position: so that, although he could not deny that Jo was a first-rate man, and knew that Mary was fond of him, he had hitherto felt a strong disinclination to allow his darling and only child to wed, as he considered it beneath her. When, therefore, the speech above quoted broke harshly on his ears, the matter became finally settled in his mind. He dropped his pipe, set his heel on it, and ground it to powder. He also ground his teeth, and, turning round with a snort, worthy of the creature to which he had been compared, sailed wildly homewards. Next day Jo Grain chanced to meet him in the street, and held out his hand as usual; but the captain, thrusting both hands deep into his trousers pockets, looked the young man firmly in the face-- "No, Grain," he said sternly. "I've done with _you_!" "Why so, Captain Bolter?" asked Jo, in great surprise. "Because," hissed the Captain, as his wrath rose, "an _old grampus_ don't choose to have anything more to do with a _young puppy_!" Instantly his reckless speech of the day before flashed into Jo's mind. "Forgive me, Captain Bolter," he said respectfully: "forgive me, and try to forget it--I didn't mean it, believe me--I--I wasn't quite myself, sir, when--" "No!" interrupted the Captain fiercely; "I'll never forgive you, nor forget it." With that he turned away and left Jo Grain to meditate on the folly of indulging in a stimulant which robbed him of his self-control. But youth is very hopeful. Jo did not quite believe in the Captain's sincerity. He comforted himself with the thought that time would soften the old man's feelings, and meanwhile he would continue to court Mary when opportunity offered. The Captain, however, soon proved that he was thoroughly in earnest: for, instead of leaving his daughter under the care of a maiden aunt, as had been his custom previously, during his frequent absences from home, he took her to sea with him, and left Jo with an extra supply of food for meditation. Poor Jo struggled hard under this his first severe trial, but struggled in his own strength and failed. Instead of casting away the glass which had already done him so much damage, he madly took to it as a solace to his secret grief. Yet Jo took good care that his comrades should see no outward trace of that grief.