must have good bait, the thing most on the deacon's mind.

[Illustration: The deacon's dream.]

I was delighted to reach Westport. Any port at all would have been
delightful after the terrible thrashing I got in the fierce sou'west
rip, and to find myself among old schoolmates now was charming. It was
the 13th of the month, and 13 is my lucky number--a fact registered
long before Dr. Nansen sailed in search of the north pole with his
crew of thirteen. Perhaps he had heard of my success in taking a most
extraordinary ship successfully to Brazil with that number of crew.
The very stones on Briar's Island I was glad to see again, and I knew
them all. The little shop round the corner, which for thirty-five
years I had not seen, was the same, except that it looked a deal
smaller. It wore the same shingles--I was sure of it; for did not I
know the roof where we boys, night after night, hunted for the skin of
a black cat, to be taken on a dark night, to make a plaster for a poor
lame man? Lowry the tailor lived there when boys were boys. In his day
he was fond of the gun. He always carried his powder loose in the tail
pocket of his coat. He usually had in his mouth a short dudeen; but in
an evil moment he put the dudeen, lighted, in the pocket among the
powder. Mr. Lowry was an eccentric man.

At Briar's Island I overhauled the _Spray_ once more and tried her
seams, but found that even the test of the sou'west rip had started
nothing. Bad weather and much head wind prevailing outside, I was in
no hurry to round Cape Sable. I made a short excursion with some
friends to St. Mary's Bay, an old cruising-ground, and back to the
island. Then I sailed, putting into Yarmouth the following day on
account of fog and head wind. I spent some days pleasantly enough in