roared. Then somebody was heard saying, 'All clear, sir.' . . . 'Are
you all right?' asked the gruff voice. I had jumped forward to see the
damage, and hailed back, 'I think so.' 'Easy astern,' said the gruff
voice. A bell jingled. 'What steamer is that?' screamed Mahon. By that
time she was no more to us than a bulky shadow maneuvering a little
way off. They shouted at us some name--a woman's name, Miranda or
Melissa--or some such thing. 'This means another month in this beastly
hole,' said Mahon to me, as we peered with lamps about the splintered
bulwarks and broken braces. 'But where's the captain?'

"We had not heard or seen anything of him all that time. We went aft to
look. A doleful voice arose hailing somewhere in the middle of the dock,
'_Judea_ ahoy!'. . . How the devil did he get there? . . . 'Hallo!' we
shouted. 'I am adrift in our boat without oars,' he cried. A belated
waterman offered his services, and Mahon struck a bargain with him for
half-a-crown to tow our skipper alongside; but it was Mrs. Beard that
came up the ladder first. They had been floating about the dock in that
mizzly cold rain for nearly an hour. I was never so surprised in my
life.

"It appears that when he heard my shout 'Come up,' he understood at once
what was the matter, caught up his wife, ran on deck, and across,
and down into our boat, which was fast to the ladder. Not bad for a
sixty-year-old. Just imagine that old fellow saving heroically in his
arms that old woman--the woman of his life. He set her down on a thwart,
and was ready to climb back on board when the painter came adrift
somehow, and away they went together. Of course in the confusion we
did not hear him shouting. He looked abashed. She said cheerfully, 'I
suppose it does not matter my losing the train now?' 'No, Jenny--you go
below and get warm,' he growled. Then to us: 'A sailor has no business