"That's what I mean," rejoined Milt boldly, fishing in his pocket for the
required nickel.

"For fourteen days while the _Posy Lass_ was drivin' off shore before an
easterly gale, Cap'n Am'zon an' two others, lashed to the stump o' the
fo'mast, _ex_-isted in a smother of foam an' spume, with the waves
picklin' 'em ev'ry few minutes. And five raw potaters was all they had
to eat in all that endurin' time!"

"Five potatoes?" Lawford Tapp cried. "For three men? And for fourteen
days? Good-_night_!"

Cap'n Abe stared at him for a moment, his eyes holding sparks of
indignation. "Young man," he said tartly, "you should hear Cap'n Am'zon
himself tell it. You wouldn't cast no doubts upon his statement."

Cap'n Joab snorted and turned his back again. Young Tapp felt somewhat
abashed.

"Yes, sir!" proceeded Cap'n Abe who seldom lost the thread of one of his
stories, "they was lashed to that stump of a mast and they lived on them
potaters--scraping 'em fine with their sheath-knives, and husbandin' 'em
like they was jewels. One of 'em went mad."

"One o' the potaters?" gasped Amiel Perdue.

"_Who_ went crazy--your brother, Cap'n Abe?" Milt asked cheerfully. He
had squandered a nickel in trying to head off the flow of the
storekeeper's story, and felt that he was entitled to something besides