the mooring-cable over the dolphin at the end of the dock.

"Some men wanted aft here to take up the slack of the stern-line on
the windlass, sir," he shouted to the skipper, who was walking around
on top of the house. "That girl can't haul her in alone."

"Can't. I'm short-handed," the skipper replied. "Jump aboard and help
her."

Cardigan made a long leap from the dock to the ship's rail, balanced
there lightly a moment, and sprang to the deck. He passed the bight
of the stern-line in a triple loop around the drum of the windlass,
and without awaiting his instructions, the girl grasped the slack of
the line and prepared to walk away with it as the rope paid in on the
windlass. Cardigan inserted a belaying-pin in the windlass, paused
and looked at the girl. "Raise a chantey," he suggested. Instantly
she lifted a sweet contralto in that rollicking old ballad of the
sea--"Blow the Men Down."

For tinkers and tailors and lawyers and all,
Way! Aye! Blow the men down!
They ship for real sailors aboard the Black Ball,
Give me some time to blow the men down.

Round the windlass Cardigan walked, steadily and easily, and the
girl's eyes widened in wonder as he did the work of three powerful
men. When the ship had been warped in and the slack of the line made
fast on the bitts, she said:

"Please run for'd and help my father with the bow-lines. You're worth