"I am a writer," explained the other. "If I may be allowed on board I'll

take a few pictures and--"

"And make fun of me and my bo't by putting a piece in the paper to

tickle city dudes. Fend off!" he commanded, noticing that the tender was

drifting toward the schooner's side and that one of the crew had set a

boat-hook against the main chain-plate.

"Don't bother with the old crab," advised the owner, sourly.

But the other persisted, courteously, even humbly. "I am afraid you do

not understand me, captain. I would as soon make jest of my mother as of

this noble old relic."

"Go ahead! Call it names!"

"I am taking off my hat to it," he declared, whipping his cap from his

head. "My father's grandfather was in the war of eighteen twelve. I want

to honor this old patriot here with the best tribute my pen can pay.

If you will allow me to come on board I shall feel as though I were

stepping upon a sacred spot, and I can assure you that my friends, here,

have just as much respect for this craft as I have."

But this honest appeal did not soften Captain Candage. He did not

understand exactly from what source this general rancor of his flowed.

At the same time he was conscious of the chief reason why he did not

want to allow these visitors to rummage aboard the schooner. They would

meet his daughter, and he was afraid, and he was bitterly ashamed of

himself because he was afraid. Dimly he was aware that this everlasting

fear on her account constituted an insult to her. The finer impulse to

protect her privacy was not actuating him; he knew that, too. He was

merely foolishly afraid to trust her in the company of young men, and

the combination of his emotions produced the simplest product of mental

upheaval--unreasonable wrath.

"Fend off, I say," he commanded.

"Again I beg you, captain, with all respect, please may we come on

board?"

"You get away from here and tend to your own business, if you've got

any, or I'll heave a bunch of shingles at you!" roared the skipper.

"Father!" The voice expressed indignant reproof. "Father, I am ashamed

of you!"

The girl came to the rail, and the yachtsmen stared at her as if she

were Aphrodite risen from the sea instead of a mighty pretty girl

emerging from a dark companion-way. She had appeared so suddenly! She

was so manifestly incongruous in her surroundings.




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