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Up to Friday afternoon the skipper went about with a smile of kindlysatisfaction on his face; but in the evening it weakened somewhat, andby Saturday morning it had vanished altogether, and was replaced by anexpression of blank amazement and anxiety, for the crew shunned thewater cask as though it were poison, without appearing to suffer theslightest inconvenience. A visible air of proprietorship appeared ontheir faces whenever they looked at the skipper, and the now frightenedman inveighed fiercely to the mate against the improper methods ofconversion patronised by some religious bodies, and the aggravatingobstinacy of some of their followers.

"It’s wonderful what enthusiasm’ll do for a man," said Bob reflectively;"I knew a man once—"

"I don’t want none o’ your lies," interposed the other rudely.

"An’ I don’t want your blamed rum and water, if it comes to that," saidthe mate, firing up. "When a man’s tea is made with rum, an’ his beef isbiled in it, he begins to wonder whether he’s shipped with a seaman ora—a—"

"A what?" shouted the skipper. "Say it!"

"I can’t think o’ nothing foolish enough," was the frank reply. "It’sall right for you, becos it’s the last licker as you’ll be allowed totaste, but it’s rough on me and the cook. "

"Damn you an’ the cook," said the skipper, and went on deck to see whether the men’s tongues were hanging out.

By Sunday morning he was frantic; the men were hale and well enough,though, perhaps, a trifle thin, and he began to believe with the cookthat the age of miracles had not yet passed.

It was a broiling hot day, and, to add to his discomfort, the mate, whowas consumed by a raging thirst, lay panting in the shade of the mainsail, exchanging condolences of a most offensive nature with the cook every time he looked his way.

All the morning he grumbled incessantly, until at length, warned by anoffensive smell of rum that dinner was on the table, he got up and wentbelow.

At the foot of the ladder he paused abruptly, for the skipper was leaning back in his seat, gazing in a fascinated manner at some object on the table.

"What’s the matter?" inquired the mate in alarm.

The other, who did not appear to hear the question, made no answer, butcontinued to stare in a most extraordinary fashion at a bottle whichgraced the centre of the table.

"What is it?" inquired the mate, not venturing to trust his eyes. "Water?Where did it come from?"

"Cook!" roared the skipper, turning a bloodshot eye on that worthy, ashis pallid face showed behind the mate, "what’s this? If you say it’swater I’ll kill you. "

"I don’t know what it is, sir," said the cook cautiously; "but Dick sentit to you with his best respects, and I was to say as there’s plentymore where that came from. He’s a nasty, under’anded, deceitful old man,is Dick, sir, an’ it seems he laid in a stock o’ water in bottles an’the like afore you doctored the cask, an’ the men have had it locked upin their chests ever since. "

"Dick’s a very clever old man," remarked the mate, pouring himself out aglass, and drinking it with infinite relish, "ain’t he, cap’n? It’ll bea privilege to jine anything that man’s connected with, won’t it?"

He paused for a reply, but none came, for the cap’n, with dim eyes, wasstaring blankly into a future so lonely and uncongenial that he had lostthe power of speech—even of that which, at other crises, had neverfailed to afford him relief. The mate gazed at him curiously for amoment, and then, imitating the example of the cook, quitted the cabin.