“'Tie this line to that cleat. That cleat there! CLEAT, you lubber! CLEAT! That knob! MAKE IT FAST! Oh, my gosh t'mighty! Get out of my way!' “The critter had tied the sheet to the handle of the door instead of the one I meant, and the pull of the sail hauled the door open and pretty nigh ripped it off the hinges. I had to climb into the cockpit and straighten out the mess. I was losin' my temper; I do hate bunglin' seamanship aboard a craft of mine. “'But what'll become of us?' begs Billings. 'Will we drown?' “'What in tunket do we want to drown for? Ain't we got a good sailin' breeze and the whole bay to stay on top of--fifty foot of water and more?' “'Fifty foot!' he yells. 'Is there fifty foot of water underneath us now? Pard, you don't mean it!' “'Course I mean it. Good thing, too!' “'But fifty foot! It's enough to drown in ten times over!' “'Can't drown but once, can you? And I'd just as soon drown in fifty foot as four--ruther, 'cause 'twouldn't take so long.' “He didn't answer out loud; but I heard him talkin' to himself pretty constant. “We was well out in the bay by now, and the seas was a little mite more rugged--nothin' to hurt, you understand, but the floats was all foam, and once in a while we'd ship a little spray. And every time that happened Billings would jump and grab for somethin' solid--sometimes 'twas the upholstery and sometimes 'twas me. He wa'n't on the thwart, but down in a heap on the cockpit floor. “'Let go of my leg!' I sings out, after we'd hit a high wave and that shover had made a more'n ordinary savage claw at my underpinnin'. 'You make me nervous. Drat this everlastin' fog! somethin'll bump into us if we don't look out. Here, you go for'ard and light them cruisin' lights. They ain't colored 'cordin' to regulations, but they'll have to do. Go for'ard! What you waitin' for?' “Well, it turned out that he didn't like to leave that cockpit. I was mad. “'Go for'ard there and light them lights!' I yelled, hangin' to the steerin' oar and keepin' the ark runnin' afore the wind. “'I won't!' he says, loud and emphatic. 'Think I'm a blame fool? I sure would be a jack rabbit to climb over them seats the way they're buckin' and light them lamps. You're talkin' through your hat!'