Seth protested, declaring that the dishes need not be rewashed that very
minute, and that when he got a chance he would do them himself. But the
young man was firm, and, at last, the lightkeeper yielded.

"It's real kind of you," he declared, "and bein' as I've consider'ble
to do, I don't know but I'll let you. Here's a couple of dishcloths, and
there's the towels. I'm goin' out to see to the lights, and I'll be back
pretty soon and get supper."

Later in the evening, after supper, the housework done, they sat again
on the bench beside the door, each with a pipe, filled, this time,
with genuine smoking tobacco. Before and below them was the quiet sea,
rolling lazily under the stars. Overhead the big lanterns in the towers
thrust their parallel lances of light afar into the darkness. The
only sounds were the low wash of the surf and the hum of the eager
mosquitoes. Brown was silent, alternately puffing at the pipe and
slapping at the insects, which latter, apparently finding his skin
easier to puncture than that of the tanned and leathery Atkins, were
making the most of their opportunity.

Seth, whose curiosity had been checked but not smothered by his
companion's evident desire to say nothing concerning himself, was busy
thinking of various guileful schemes with which to entrap the castaway
into the disclosure of his identity. Having prepared his bait, he
proceeded to get over a line.

"Mr. Brown," he said, "I ain't mentioned it to you afore, 'count of your
needin' rest and grub and all after your fallin' overboard last night.
But tomorrer you'll be feelin' fustrate again, and I cal'late you'll be