"'Cook, you dunderhead!' says the skipper, with a wink t' the crew. 'You
been an' scarched the water agin.'

"Shoos he looked like he'd give up for good on the spot--just like he
_knowed_ he was a fool, an' _had_ knowed it for a long, long time,--sort
o' like he was sorry for we an' sick of hisself.

"'Cook,' says the skipper, 'you went an' done it agin. Yes, you did!
Don't you go denyin' of it. You'll kill us, cook,' says he, 'if you goes
on like this. They isn't nothin' worse for the system,' says he, 'than
this here burned water. The alamnacs,' says he, shakin' his finger at
the poor cook, ''ll tell you _that!_'

"'I 'low I did burn that water, skipper,' says the cook, 'if you says
so. But I isn't got all my wits,' says he, the cry-baby; 'an' God knows
I'm doin' my best!'

"'I always did allow, cook,' says the skipper, 'that God knowed more'n I
ever thunk.'

"'An' I never _did_ burn no water,' blubbers the cook, 'afore I shipped
along o' you in this here dam' ol' flour-sieve of a _White Lily_.'

"'This here _what_?' snaps the skipper.

"'This here dam' ol' basket.'

"'Basket!' says the skipper. Then he hummed a bit o' 'Fishin' for the
Maid I Loves,' 'ithout thinkin' much about the toon. 'Cook,' says he, 'I
loves you. You is on'y a half-witted chance-child,' says he, 'but I