made but slow progress.

"When I was a young man," said the fare with severity, "I'd ha' pulled
this boat across and back afore now."

"When you was a young man," said the man at the oars, who had a local
reputation as a wit, "there wasn't no boats; they was all Noah's arks
then."

"Stow your gab," said the captain, after a pause of deep thought.

The other, whose besetting sin was certainly not loquacity, ejected a
thin stream of tobacco-juice over the side, spat on his hands, and
continued his laborious work until a crowd of dark shapes, surmounted by
a network of rigging, loomed up before them.

"Now, which is your little barge?" he inquired, tugging strongly to
maintain his position against the fast-flowing tide.

"Smiling Jane" said his fare.

"Ah," said the waterman, "Smiling Jane, is it? You sit there, cap'n, an'
I'll row round all their sterns while you strike matches and look at the
names. We'll have quite a nice little evening."

"There she is," cried the captain, who was too muddled to notice the
sarcasm; "there's the little beauty. Steady, my lad."

He reached out his hand as he spoke, and as the boat jarred violently
against a small schooner, seized a rope which hung over the side, and,