“You puny, half-begotten rat!” roared Benjamin Sparks. “I’ve a good mind to throw you into the sea.” Yet the other occupants of the boat marvelled to observe that William Jordan did not yield a step to so much power and truculence. The young man stood bare-headed, with his white face uplifted. His hands and teeth were clenched. He was deadly pale, but not a trace of excitement was in his bearing. “We will perish together,” he was heard to mutter. Without waiting to be attacked, William Jordan uttered a cry like that of a wild animal, and flung himself headlong upon his adversary. As their clenched forms grappled to one another, and swayed from one side of the boat to the other, shouts of anguish and terror rose from their companions. “They will have her over!” they cried wildly. “They will drown us all.” In a moment they were stricken with panic. Helpless, yet half wild with terror, they clutched the sides of the frail boat. It was by a miracle that it regained an even keel. It was also due to a further dispensation of an inscrutable providence that both combatants did not find themselves in the water. They put back to the shore with all speed. It was with true devoutness of spirit that they found themselves once again on dry land. “I shall never take you on the sea again, my son,” said Mr. Dodson, with a very white face. “He ought to be ducked,” was the opinion freely expressed by the others. Mr. Benjamin Sparks took off his coat with a businesslike deliberation. “Now then, you d----d lunatic,” he said, “we will have it out.” “I--I d-don’t know how to fight,” stammered William Jordan, all of whose spirit had fled, “but you can throw me into the sea if you w-want to.” “If we don’t get him away,” said the others apprehensively, “Ben Sparks will murder him.” Whereupon Mr. James Dodson linked his arm through that of his singular companion. “Come on, Luney,” he said, “I don’t want to have to give evidence before a coroner’s jury. What a lunatic you are! Whatever possessed you to do it? You have quite spoilt the day for everybody. I shall never bring you to Margate again.” William Jordan and his mentor walked in dead silence in the direction of the town. But after they had gone some distance, William Jordan stopped abruptly and said, “I--I must go back to the sea. I--I cannot leave the sea. I--I will return to the railway station at a quarter-past six.” “Promise me,” said his mentor earnestly, “that you will be up to no new mischief. I don’t know that you are fit to be left alone with the sea. It seems to get into your brain.”