devotion went so far as to make him go about flicking the dust off
the varnished teak-wood rail of the little craft with a silk
pocket-handkerchief--a present from Mrs. B-, I believe.

That was the effect of his love for the barque. The effect of his
admirable lack of the sense of security once went so far as to make
him remark to me: "Well, sir, you ARE a lucky man!"

It was said in a tone full of significance, but not exactly
offensive, and it was, I suppose, my innate tact that prevented my
asking, "What on earth do you mean by that?"

Later on his meaning was illustrated more fully on a dark night in
a tight corner during a dead on-shore gale. I had called him up on
deck to help me consider our extremely unpleasant situation. There
was not much time for deep thinking, and his summing-up was: "It
looks pretty bad, whichever we try; but, then, sir, you always do
get out of a mess somehow."



VI.



It is difficult to disconnect the idea of ships' anchors from the
idea of the ship's chief mate--the man who sees them go down clear
and come up sometimes foul; because not even the most unremitting
care can always prevent a ship, swinging to winds and tide, from
taking an awkward turn of the cable round stock or fluke. Then the