Captain Ranse Lougee of the topsail schooner Belvedere, laden with

fish scraps for a Boston glue-factory, dropped over the counter into his

dory and came rowing to the Polly, standing up and facing forward and

swaying with the fisherman's stroke.

He straddled easily over the schooner's scant freeboard and came aft,

and was greeted cordially by Captain Candage.

"Thought I'd show them frosted-cakers that there's a little sociability

amongst the gents in the coasting trade, too," he informed his

host. "Furthermore, I want to borry the ex-act time o' day. And,

furthermore, I'm glad to get away from that cussed aromy on board the

Belvedere and sort of air out my nose once in a while. What's the good

word, Cap?"

Captain Candage replied to the commonplaces of the other skipper in

abstracted fashion. He had viewed Lougee's approach with interest, and

now he was plainly pondering in regard to something wholly outside this

chatter.

"Captain Lougee," he broke in, suddenly, in low tones, "I want you

should come forward with me out of hearing of anybody below. I've got a

little taakul I want you to help me overhaul."

The two walked forward over the deckload and sat on the fore-gaff, which

sprawled carelessly where it had fallen when the halyards were let run.

"My daughter is below, there," explained Captain Candage.

"Vacation trip, eh?"

"I don't think it can be called that, Captain Lougee," stated the host,

dryly. "She is having about as good a time as a canary-bird would have

in a corn-popper over a hot fire."

"What did she come for, then?"

"I made her come. I shanghaied her."

"That's no way to treat wimmen folks," declared Captain Lougee. "I've

raised five daughters and I know what I'm talking about."

"I know you have raised five girls, and they're smart as tophet and

right as a trivet--and that's why I have grabbed right in on the subject

as I have. I was glad to see you coming aboard, Captain Lougee. I want

some advice from a man who knows."

"Then I'm the man to ask, Captain Candage."

"Last time I was home--where she has been living with her Aunt Zilpah--I

ketched her!" confessed Candage. His voice was hoarse. His fingers, bent

and calloused with rope-pulling, trembled as he fingered the seam of his

trousers.

"You don't tell!" Lougee clucked, solicitously.

"Yes, I ketched her buggy-riding!"

"Alone?"

"No, there was a gang of 'em in a beach-wagon. They was going to a

party. And I ketched her dancing with a fellow at that party."




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