“It is a mystery to me, Louise—­a perfect mystery—­how you are able to endure that awful creature and his coarse stories.  That dreadful tale of the albatross sticks in my mind—­I cannot forget it,” she complained.  “And his appearance!  No more savage looking man did I ever behold.  I wonder you are not afraid to live in the same house with him.”

Louise would not acknowledge that she had ever been fearful of Cap’n Amazon.  Her own qualms of terror had almost immediately subsided.  The news from the Curlew, indeed, seemed to have smothered the neighborhood criticism of the captain, if all suspicions had not actually been lulled to rest.

Cap’n Amazon spoke no more of his brother, save in connection with Professor Grayling’s peril, than he had before.  He seemed to have no fears for Cap’n Abe.  “Abe can look out for himself,” was a frequent expression with him.  But Cap’n Amazon never spoke as though he held the danger of Louise’s father in light regard.

“I’ll give ’em a fortnight to be heard from,” Cap’n Joab Beecher said confidently.  “Then if ye don’t hear from Cap’n Abe, or the noospapers don’t print nothin’ more about the schooner, I shall write her down in the log as lost with all hands.”

“Don’t you be too sartain sure ’bout it,” growled Cap’n Amazon.  “There’s many a wonder of the sea, as you an’ I know, Joab Beecher.  Look at what happened the crew of the Mailfast, clipper built, out o’ Baltimore—­an’ that was when you an’ I, Cap’n Joab, was sharpenin’ our milk teeth on salt hoss.”

“What happened her, Cap’n Am’zon?” queried Milt Baker, reaching for a fresh piece of Brown Mule, and with a wink at the other idlers.  “Did she go down, or did she go up?”

“Both,” replied Cap’n Amazon unruffled.  “She went up in smoke an’ flame, an’ finally sunk when she’d burned to the Plimsol mark.

“Every man of the crew and afterguard got safely into two boats.  This wasn’t far to the westward of Fayal—­in mebbe somewhere near the same spot where that Portugee fisherman reports pickin’ up the Curlew’s boat.

“When the Mailfast burned the sea was calm; but in six hours a sudden gale came up and drove the two boats into the southwest.  They wasn’t provisioned or watered for a long v’y’ge, and they had to run for it a full week, ev’ry mile reeled off takin’ them further an’ further from the islands, and further and further off the reg’lar course of shipping.”

“Where’d they wind up at, Cap’n Am’zon?” asked Milt.

“Couldn’t hit nothin’ nearer’n the Guineas on that course,” growled Cap’n Joab.

“There you’re wrong,” the substitute storekeeper said.  “They struck seaweed—­acres an’ acres of it—­square miles of it—­everlastin’ seaweed!”

“Sargasso Sea!” exploded Washy Gallup, wagging his toothless jaw.  “I swanny!”

“I’ve heard about that place, but never seen it,” said Cap’n Joab.