"Looks as if we might have a spell o' weather, hey? The wind's falling
all the time, and if it keeps on, we'll have a calm night without a
draught of air."

"What do you mean by a ca'm night without a draft of air?" asked the
young fellow, in a superior tone, while at the same time I detected a
smile lurking about the corners of his eyes.

If there's one thing I hate to see in a young fellow, it is the
desire to make fun of a superior's conversation. Being an American
sailor, I had little use for _r_'s in every word which held an _a_
but I had no objection to any one else talking the way they wished. I
was somewhat doubtful just how to sit upon this nebulous third mate,
so I began easily.

"Do you know," said I, "there are a great many young fellows going out in
ships as officers when they could be of much more benefit to people
generally if they stayed home and helped their mothers to 'bark cark,' or
do other little things around the nursery or kitchen."

As I finished I thought I heard some one swear fiercely in a low tone. I
looked over the poop rail down to the main deck beneath, but saw no one
near. The third officer seemed to be lost in thought for a moment.

"It isn't good to be too clever," said he, in the tone which was
unmistakably a woman's. "When a person is good at baking cake, or
'barking cark,' as you choose to call it, the sea is a good place for
them. They can look out for those who haven't sense enough to perform the
function."