to lay his hands on two hundred pence.

All that night Captain Whalley walked the poop of his anchored ship, as
though he had been about to close with the land in thick weather, and
uncertain of his position after a run of many gray days without a sight
of sun, moon, or stars. The black night twinkled with the guiding lights
of seamen and the steady straight lines of lights on shore; and all
around the Fair Maid the riding lights of ships cast trembling trails
upon the water of the roadstead. Captain Whalley saw not a gleam
anywhere till the dawn broke and he found out that his clothing was
soaked through with the heavy dew.

His ship was awake. He stopped short, stroked his wet beard, and
descended the poop ladder backwards, with tired feet. At the sight
of him the chief officer, lounging about sleepily on the quarterdeck,
remained open-mouthed in the middle of a great early-morning yawn.

"Good morning to you," pronounced Captain Whalley solemnly, passing into
the cabin. But he checked himself in the doorway, and without looking
back, "By the bye," he said, "there should be an empty wooden case put
away in the lazarette. It has not been broken up--has it?"

The mate shut his mouth, and then asked as if dazed, "What empty case,
sir?"

"A big flat packing-case belonging to that painting in my room. Let it
be taken up on deck and tell the carpenter to look it over. I may want
to use it before long."

The chief officer did not stir a limb till he had heard the door of the