more than we mariners."

"Tut, man!" The Captain, who held the tiller, had ceased to look aft.
His eyes were on the quay and the small town climbing the hillside above
it in tier upon tier of huddled grey houses. "Why, damme!
Your landsman chooses to live ashore, to begin with. What's more, he
can walk where he has a mind to, no matter where the wind sits."

Mr Tregaskis shook his head. Having no hat, he was able to do this, and
it gave him some dialectical advantage over his skipper.

"In practice, sir, you'd find it depend on who's left to mind the shop."

"Home's home, all the same," said Captain Cai positively, thrusting over
the tiller to round in for the landing-stairs. "I was born and reared
in Troy, d'ye see? and as the sayin' goes--Steady on!"

A small schooner, the _Pure Gem_ of Padstow, had warped out from the
quay overnight after discharging her ballast with the usual disregard of
the Harbour Commissioners' bye-laws; and a number of ponderable stones,
now barely covered by the tide, encumbered the foot of the landing.
On one of these the boat caught her heel, with a jerk that flung the two
oarsmen sprawling and toppled Captain Hocken's tall hat over his nose.
Mr Tregaskis thrust out a hand to catch it, but in too great a haste.
The impact of his finger-tips on the edge of the crown sent the hat
spinning forward over the thwart whereon sprawled Ben Price, the stroke
oar, and into the lap of Nathaniel Berry, bowman.

Nathaniel Berry, recovering his balance, rescued the headgear from the
grip of his knees, gave it a polite brush the wrong way of the nap, and