"Naturally he'd take to you on sight."

"0w? Strynge 'ow _we_ 'it it off, eigh?... You myke me skinnyk of 'im. Youngchap, 'e was, the livin' spi't-'n-himage of you. It don't happen, does it,you're the same man?"

"0h, go to the devil!"

"Naughty!" said the captain serenely, wagging a reproving forefinger. "Bad,naughty word. You'll be sorry when you find out wot it means.... 0nly 'ewas allus plannin' to run awye and drownd 'is-self."...

He wore the joke threadbare, even to his own taste, and in the end gotheavily to his feet, starting for the companionway. "Land you thisarternoon," he remarked casually, "come three o'clock or thereabahts.Per'aps later. I don't know, though, as I 'ad ought to let you loose."

Kirkwood made no answer. Chuckling, Stryker went on deck.

In the course of an hour the American followed him.

Wind and sea alike had gone down wonderfully since daybreak--a circumstanceundoubtedly in great part due to the fact that they had won in under thelee of the mainland and were traversing shallower waters. 0n either hand,like mist upon the horizon, lay a streak of gray, a shade darker than thegray of the waters. The _Alethea_ was within the wide jaws of the WesternScheldt. As for the wind, it had shifted several points to the northwards;the brigantine had it abeam and was lying down to it and racing to portwith slanting deck and singing cordage.

Kirkwood approached the captain, who, acting as his own pilot, was standingby the wheel and barking sharp orders to the helmsman.

"Have you a Bradshaw on board?" asked the young man.

"Steady!" This to the man at the wheel; then to Kirkwood: "Wot's that, melud?"

Kirkwood repeated his question. Stryker eyed him suspiciously for athought.

"Wot d'you want it for?"