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It was past two o’clock in the afternoon before any signs of life other than the blackbird appeared there. Then the girl came on deck again, accompanied by a stout woman of middle age, and an appearance so affable that the mate commenced at once.

“Fine day,” he said pleasantly, as he brought up in front of them.

“Lovely weather,” said the mother, settling herself in her chair and putting down her work ready for a chat. “I hope the wind lasts; we start to-morrow morning’s tide. You’ll get off this afternoon, I s’pose.”

“About five o’clock,” said the mate.

“I should like to try a steamer for a change,” said the mother, and waxed garrulous on sailing craft generally, and her own in particular.

“There’s five of us down there, with my husband and the two boys,” said she, indicating the cabin with her thumb; “naturally it gets rather stuffy.”

The mate sighed. He was thinking that under some conditions there were worse things than stuffy cabins.

“And Nancy’s so discontented,” said the mother, looking at the girl who was reading quietly by her side. “She doesn’t like ships or sailors. She gets her head turned reading those penny novelettes.”

“You look after your own head,” said Nancy elegantly, without looking up.

“Girls in those novels don’t talk to their mothers like that,” said the elder woman severely.

“They have different sorts of mothers,” said Nancy, serenely turning over a page. “I hate little pokey ships and sailors smelling of tar. I never saw a sailor I liked yet.”

The mate’s face fell. “There’s sailors and sailors,” he suggested humbly.

“It’s no good talking to her,” said the mother, with a look of fat resignation on her face, “we can only let her go her own way; if you talked to her twenty-four hours right off it wouldn’t do her any good.”

“I’d like to try,” said the mate, plucking up spirit.

“Would you?” said the girl, for the first time raising her head and looking him full in the face. “Impudence!”

“Perhaps you haven’t seen many ships,” said the impressionable mate, his eyes devouring her face. “Would you like to come and have a look at our cabin?”

“No, thanks!” said the girl sharply. Then she smiled maliciously. “I daresay mother would, though; she’s fond of poking her nose into other people’s business.”

The mother regarded her irreverent offspring fixedly for a few moments. The mate interposed.

“I should be very pleased to show you over, ma’am,” he said politely.

The mother hesitated; then she rose, and accepting the mate’s assistance, clambered on to the side of the steamer, and, supported by his arms, sprang to the deck and followed him below.

“Very nice,” she said, nodding approvingly, as the mate did the honours. “Very nice.”

“It’s nice and roomy for a little craft like ours,” said the mate, as he drew a stone bottle from a locker and poured out a couple of glasses of stout. “Try a little beer, ma’am.”

“What you must think o’ that girl o’ mine I can’t think,” murmured the lady, taking a modest draught.

“The young,” said the mate, who had not quite reached his twenty-fifth year, “are often like that.”

“It spoils her,” said her mother. “She’s a good-looking girl, too, in her way.”

“I don’t see how she can help being that,” said the mate.

“Oh, get away with you,” said the lady pleasantly. “She’ll get fat like me as she gets older.”

“She couldn’t do better,” said the mate tenderly.

“Nonsense,” said the lady, smiling.

“You’re as like as two peas,” persisted the mate. “I made sure you were sisters when I saw you first.”

“You ain’t the first that’s thought that,” said the other, laughing softly; “not by a lot.”

“I like to see ladies about,” said the mate, who was trying desperately for a return invitation. “I wish you could always sit there. You quite brighten the cabin up.”

“You’re a flatterer,” said his visitor, as he replenished her glass, and showed so little signs of making a move that the mate, making a pretext of seeing the engineer, hurried up on deck to singe his wings once more.