The skipper said no more, but his face was so worn that Miss Harris, when
she came on deck in the early morning and found the barge gliding gently
between the grassy banks of a river, attributed it to the difficulty of
navigating so large a craft on so small and winding a stream.

"We shall be alongside in 'arf an hour," said the skipper, eyeing her.

Miss Harris expressed her gratification.

"P'raps you wouldn't mind going down the fo'c'sle and staying there till
we've made fast," said the other. "I'd take it as a favour. My owners
don't like me to carry passengers."

Miss Harris, who understood perfectly, said, "Certainly," and with a cold
stare at the mate, who was at no pains to conceal his amusement, went
below at once, thoughtfully closing the scuttle after her.

"There's no call to make mischief, Ted," said the skipper, somewhat
anxiously, as they swept round the last bend and came into view of
Coalsham.

The mate said nothing, but stood by to take in sail as they ran swiftly
toward the little quay. The pace slackened, and the Arabella, as though
conscious of the contraband in her forecastle, crept slowly to where a
stout, middle-aged woman, who bore a strong likeness to the mate, stood
upon the quay.

"There's poor Loo," said the mate, with a sigh.

The skipper made no reply to this infernal insinuation. The barge ran