"Shrimp, thar hain't nary sail nor steamer smoke in sight off the Capes and I 'low thar has a dozen skippers seen that-thar same mare's tail as did I last night, and has had the good common sense to haul to in the hook o' the Cape ter ride out the blow that is sure ter come. May the sarpants o' Davy Jones' have mercy on him or her as don't take kivver; me an' you, rooster, 'll have ter do our hook an' linin' in the Spar Channel on this ebb fer so soon as she hauls a leetle more to the south'ard thar is goin' ter be hell kicked up in the Inlet an' me and yo', ole feathers an' comb, had better do our anglin' clost enough that we can shoot inter this home harbor without loosin' o' our rag." Captain Ichabod busied himself with getting his leads and lines in shape. He cut up a half-dozen mullets for bait. Then he picked up the mast, around which was wrapped a patchwork of canvas, very snugly. It felt at home there for it had been thus rolled around the mast time and again through many years. Captain Ichabod now walked to the red skiff. At his heels Shrimp stalked with great dignity. The Captain stepped the mast, arranged the halyards, and pushed off. The sail caught the wind and Captain Ichabod at the tiller was off for the Spar Channel fishing grounds. When he had arrived and thrown his anchor overboard, the Captain addressed Shrimp with much solemnity. "Shrimp, ye air a heap o' company to the ole man, but ye wa'n't built by God A'mighty fer a sailin' mate, all he fixed ye fer was to peck an' scratch an' fight--oh, yes, an' I like ter forgot the crow." Then nonchalantly he remarked: "An' thar would be a heap more peace in the world to-day if he had o' built all kinds o' _Hens_ without thar tarnation cackle." When Captain Icky mentioned the word cackle he thought he could detect a dejected look upon the countenance of his feathered friend, and in a sympathetic voice to ease the rooster's feelings, said: "Wall, rooster, I must say that yo'r women folks was made with the only kind of cackle that has done men folks any good, but gosh darned if it hain't a right-smart bit since I's et an aig!" Then, having thus relieved himself, Ichabod tossed his heavily sinkered lines into the swift tide. The fish were hungry, and he was kept busy hauling them in. The swell began to increase. The small craft began to rock uncomfortably. The sun was hidden by a red cloud that banked in the eastern sky. Captain Ichabod knew the signs. He pulled in his line and hooks, made sail, and beat across to the point where nestled the life-saving station. There he would read the barometer, have a chat and a meal with the men, and afterward make a quick run home before the wind. At the life-saving station, he found the barometer indicated storm, as he had feared. After a hearty dinner, and a pipe with yarns, Captain Ichabod set sail for the Island, and made it safely, in spite of the rising storm.