“Well, whether she was run down by a steamer, or caught in the shoals, or foundered in the heavy seas, isn’t it all the same to the wives and children of the _Tempest’s_ crew? Think of young Captain Rush’s wife. What an awful thing for her, Dannie!” “I know, dear, I know. But hush now--that’s the girl. And don’t worry for me. Though they come masthead high and toss us like we’re a pine chip, I’ve only to think of you, Katie, here in the doorway looking down the street after me--a last look for me before I turn the corner. Only to think of that, and I’ll laugh--laugh out loud at them. ‘Come on, you green-backed devils!’ I’ll say--‘come on! You’d overpower us, would you? Higher yet, high as the clouds, if you want, and the _Pantheon_ she’ll ride you down.’ And she will, too, Katie--the old _Pantheon’s_ a wonder hove-to. Yes, Katie, only last trip I hollered like that to ’em one night, and----” “Oh, but you mustn’t, Dannie--it’s like boasting.” “Boasting? No, but seamanship, girl--seamanship. It’s knowing, not guessing--knowing how to handle her. Just sail enough and wheel enough and your wake setting so’s to break the backs of them afore they can come aboard with their shoulders hunched up, spitting foam and roaring warnings--green-eyed like. ’Tis they boast and threaten, not me. And if ’tis to an anchor----” “Well, dear, don’t talk that way again. And go now, while I’m strong to let you. Good luck, Dannie, and don’t forget----” “Forget what, Katie?” “You know what.” “Oh, well, tell me just the same--don’t forget what?” And he laughed in advance to hear her say it. And she whispered it, and he came nigh to crushing her as he heard. “And don’t I love you, too, Katie?” “I know it, Dannie. Only with me, if you don’t come back I can never love anybody else again--never, never, never. I love you, Dannie.” “And do I love you, Katie? Do I? Do I catch my breath and walk the deck on the long black winter nights because I can’t sleep--driving and fighting, days and nights? Tired out I ought to be, but no more tired than the roaring sea itself. Thinking of you, Katie, thinking of you. But I’m off now, dear, and don’t forget-- No need to say what, is there? But tell it again? And sure I will, dear. Whisper”--and he retold it softly in her ear. And she, loving to love, loving to be loved, could not see to let him go for another while. “And will I come home again? Will I? Did I come a hundred times before? Or was it my ghost? Aye, a healthy ghost. But say a prayer for me just the same. Though what’s to be is to be. God bless you, Katie Morrison, and good-by.” * * * * *