to the eastward darkened, and the outer beach became but a dusky streak
separating the ocean from the inner bay. At length Captain Perez rose
and, knocking the ashes from his pipe, announced that he was going to
"show a glim."

"Yes, go ahead, Jerry!" said Captain Eri, "it's gittin' dark."

"It's darker in the grave," observed Captain Perez with lugubrious
philosophy.

"Then for the land's sake let's have it light while we can! Here, Jerry!
them matches is burnt ones. Try this, 'twon't be so damagin' to the
morals."

Captain Jerry took the proffered match and lit the two bracket lamps,
fastened to the walls of the dining room. The room, seen by the
lamplight, was shiplike, but as decidedly not shipshape. The chronometer
on the mantel was obscured by a thick layer of dust. The three gorgeous
oil paintings--from the brush of the local sign painter--respectively
representing the coasting packet Hannah M., Eri Hedge, Master, and the
fishing schooners, Georgie Baker, Jeremiah Burgess, Master, and the
Flying Duck, Perez Ryder, Master, were shrouded in a very realistic fog
of the same dust. Even the imposing gilt-lettered set of "Lives of Great
Naval Commanders," purchased by Captain Perez some months before, and
being slowly paid for on an apparently never-ending installment plan,
was cloaked with it. The heap of newspapers, shoved under the couch to
get them out of the way, peeped forth in a tell-tale manner. The windows
were not too clean and the floor needed sweeping. Incidentally the
supper table had not been cleared. Each one of the three noted these
things and each sighed. Then Captain Eri said, as if to change the