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Rh That's how things stood when I joined the schooner, though I did not know this until after we had reached New Britain.

Well, we warped out, and as there was a fair slant of wind down the harbor the old man didn't bother about a tug, but sheeted home his topsail, set all the fore and aft canvas, and stood for the heads. As we passed through we could see that the clouds low down were banking up in the southeast, so we stood well out from the land, and that night got what we expected, eased our booms forward, canted the yards a little to starboard and stood to the northward with a pretty breeze and a gentle sea on our quarter. It was beautiful weather, with a clear moon almost at the full, and the schooner made good way with everything up aloft "asleep."

I had the deck, and was leaning over the weather rail forward, yarning with a young fellow who had been picked by Mr. Chris along with myself to serve in his watch. Between the puffs at his pipe he was telling me about the "last voyage"—for he had sailed in the schooner before.

"Old man's got his wife aboard this time."

"So I see," I replied, noticing at the same time that he smiled curiously.

"Well—there'll be fun."

"How?" I asked.

"Wait till we get to New Britain."

"What is there up there?"

"Oh—not much-only he's got another of 'em up in the Islands."

"Another what?"

"Why, another Missus."

"Another wife!"

"Well, there ain't any missionaries up there—and there wasn't any fuss or sing-song over it—but she's his missus up there right enough."

"Is that so!"