At last, on the fourth night out, as the
little schooner was passing the coast of Cornwall, the mate came up to
him as he was steering, and patted him heavily on the back.
"It's all right, cap'n," said he. "You've lost the prettiest little girl
in England."
"What?" said the skipper, in incredulous tones.
"Fact," replied the other. "Here's your ring back. I wouldn't let her
wear it any longer."
"However did you do it?" inquired Evans, taking the ring in a dazed
fashion.
"Oh, easy as possible," said the mate. "She liked me best, that's all."
"But what did you say to her?" persisted Evans.
The other reflected.
"I can't call to mind exactly," he said at length. "But, you may rely
upon it, I said everything I could against you. But she never did care
much for you. She told me so herself."
"I wish you joy of your bargain," said Evans solemnly, after a long
pause.
"What do you mean?" demanded the mate sharply.
"A girl like that," said the skipper, with a lump in his throat, "who
can carry on with two men at once ain't worth having. She's not my
money, that's all."
The mate looked at him in honest bewilderment.
"Mark my words," continued the skipper loftily, "you'll live to regret
it. A girl like that's got no ballast. She'll always be running after
fresh neckties.
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