me, that's all. No breeze, not a ripple a-top the water,
nary a gull a-flyin' anywhere, an' the end o' the hottest
day o' the year. I ain't no weather-prophet, Trot, but
any sailor would know the signs is ominous."

"There's nothing wrong that I can see," said Trot.

"If there was a cloud in the sky even as big as my
thumb, we might worry about it; but -- look, Cap'n! --
the sky is as clear as can be."

He looked again and nodded.

"P'r'aps we can make the cave, all right," he agreed,
not wishing to disappoint her. "It's only a little way
out, an' we'll be on the watch; so come along, Trot."

Together they descended the winding path to the
beach. It was no trouble for the girl to keep her
footing on the steep way, but Cap'n Bill, because of
his wooden leg, had to hold on to rocks and roots now
and then to save himself from tumbling. On a level path
he was as spry as anyone, but to climb up hill or down
required some care.

They reached the boat safely and while Trot was
untying the rope Cap'n Bill reached into a crevice of
the rock and drew out several tallow candles and a box
of wax matches, which he thrust into the capacious
pockets of his "sou'wester." This sou'wester was a