Again laughter thundered in the forecastle.

"All the same," the deep-voiced Davie growled, "that sly, slippery--"

"Hist!" A man raised his hand against the light that came faintly from on
deck.

Then a mild voice asked, "What are you men quidding about anyway? One of
you's sitting on my chest."

"Listen to them talk," some one close beside me whispered. "You'd think
this voyage was all of life, the way they run on about it. Now it don't
mean so much to me. My name's Bill Hayden, and I've got a little wee girl,
I have, over to Newburyport, that will be looking for her dad to come home.
Two feet long she is, and cute as they make them."

Aware that the speaker was watching me closely, I perfunctorily nodded. At
that he edged nearer. "Now I'm glad we're in the same watch," he said. "So
many men just cut a fellow off with a curse."

I observed him more sharply, and saw that he was a stupid-looking but
rather kindly soul whose hair was just turning gray.

"Now I wish you could see that little girl of mine," he continued. "Cute?
there ain't no word to tell you how cute she is. All a-laughing and
gurgling and as good as gold. Why, she ain't but a little old, and yet she
can stand right up on her two little legs as cute as you please."

I listened with mild interest as he rambled on. He seemed such a friendly,