miserable heartiness. 'Never tried this craft before; positively my

first appearance; guess I'll draw a bumper house.'

He came close up to where the plank rested on the grassy quay; turned

his back upon the schooner, and began to whistle that lively air, 'The

Irish Washerwoman.' It caught the ears of the Kanaka seamen like a

preconcerted signal; with one accord they looked up from their meal and

crowded to the ship's side, fei in hand and munching as they looked.

Even as a poor brown Pyrenean bear dances in the streets of English

towns under his master's baton; even so, but with how much more

of spirit and precision, the captain footed it in time to his own

whistling, and his long morning shadow capered beyond him on the grass.

The Kanakas smiled on the performance; Herrick looked on heavy-eyed,

hunger for the moment conquering all sense of shame; and a little

farther off, but still hard by, the clerk was torn by the seven devils

of the influenza.

The captain stopped suddenly, appeared to perceive his audience for the

first time, and represented the part of a man surprised in his private

hour of pleasure.

'Hello!' said he.

The Kanakas clapped hands and called upon him to go on.

'No, SIR!' said the captain. 'No eat, no dance. Savvy?'

The Ebb-Tide