The Captain was still in pajamas and on his chair and showed all the visible symptoms of nervous prostration. “Captain,” said Billy, cheerfully, “we’d like to have a knot spliced this mornin’ and seein’ as how you are a sailor--” “Will you be good enough to perform the wedding service?” Tomlin asked, sternly. After all it was his, not Billy’s wedding. The Captain choked and was badly scared, but at last managed to say that he was “agreeable,” although he didn’t appear to be. Billy grabbed a pair of sailors for witnesses, the Captain fished out a Bible--and Mr. and Mrs. Roscoe Tomlin marched out blushing and happy to break the news to mother; whereupon the old lady climbed right out of bed, cured. That afternoon the Captain had a little talk with Mr. and Mrs. Tomlin and said that he would like permission to go ashore and stay there, as relations on board had become somewhat strained. He knew that a boat would be along in two or three days (the detectives had answered that they were coming). It was very irregular--a captain leaving his ship that way--but Tomlin said that all things considered, he thought it would be well. So the Captain said good-bye to the steward and whispered something that caused the steward to look hard at Billy; then he, the Captain, left, bag and baggage. That day was spent in getting Tomlin’s bugs and lizards on board and in saying good-bye to the natives. The next morning with the First Officer on the bridge, the _Petrel_ steamed out and left the Captain sitting on the beach--very glad to have got away without charges being laid up against him. Mr. and Mrs. Tomlin cornered Billy and asked what on earth they could do for him. “Yesum,” said Billy. “Just drop that steward over-board.” Mrs. Tomlin promised that at the first port they reached the steward would be fired and given passage money home. As the day passed Billy walked the deck and exchanged jokes with the First Officer, who was the new Captain--and glad of it, because he had never liked Farwell anyhow. Then a little trading schooner came over the line, bow on. Billy knew right away by intuition that she carried the detectives. When within hailing distance the schooner heaved to and the _Petrel_ slowed down. A fellow from the bow called out to thank the Captain for having tipped him off as to the crook wanted in New York, and asked if he was still in the nigger village. The new Captain didn’t quite understand; but Billy grabbed the megaphone and yelled: “Yes--raised a beard--stole papers and clothes from the ship--may try to pass himself off as a Captain or something--clever crook, you know--let ’im explain nothin’ or you won’t get him to New York. Good luck!” A shout of thanks came over the water as the _Petrel_ started churning ahead.