pump, brought to Mayo the words of an old shanty:
“Come all you young fellows that follow the sea, Now pray pay attention and lis-ten to me. O blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down! Way-ay, blow the man down. O blow the man down in Liverpool town! Give me some time to blow the man down. 'Twas aboard a Black-Bailer I first served my time, And in that Black-Bailer I wasted my prime. 'Tis larboard and starboard on deck you will sprawl, For blowers and strikers command the Black Ball. So, it's blow the man down, bullies—”
Alma Marston's voice interrupted his somber appreciation of the significance of that ditty. “Are you up there, Boyd?” she asked, in cautious tones.
He hurried to the head of the ladder and saw her at its foot, half hidden in the mists even at that short distance. He reached down his hand and she came up, grasping it.
She was studying his expression with both eagerness and apprehension. “I couldn't stay away from you any longer,” she declared. “The fog is good to us! Father could not see me as I came forward. I must tell you, Boyd. He has ordered me to stay aft.”
He did not speak.
“Has he dared to say to you what he has been saying below about you?”
“I don't think it needed any especial daring on your father's part; I am only his servant,” he said, with bitterness.
“And he—he insulted you like that?”
“I suppose your father did not look on what he said as insult. I repeat, I am a paid servant.”
“But what you did was right! I know it must have been right, for you know everything about what is right to do on the sea.”
“I understand my duties.”
“And he blamed you for something?”
“It was a bit worse than that from my viewpoint.” He smiled down at her, for her eyes were searching his face as if appealing for a bit of
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