The 'old man' looked at him.
"Do you know the mate's arm is broke?"
"No," said Ruddle.
"Well, it is, and he ain't fit to do a thing, naturally, and that means I haven't a mate."
Ruddle looked pleased for the first time since he came back to his old sea-self.
"You don't say so. Well, that is fortunate," he said with a happy smile. "This is what I call real luck. I'll be the mate, sir, till you can get another."
"Right," said the skipper. "And if you like you can goose-wing the topsail, Mr. Ruddle. I reckon you're right about the weather. We have enough parsons aboard to make old Davy Jones do his best."
And Ruddle, with a happy flush on his face, bellowed from the break of the poop for the watch to lay aft. They heard his voice with amazement and came very lively.
"Haul up the lee clew of the lower main-topsail," said the new mate, and going down on the main-deck he saw the gear manned, and started the sheet, and then lent his gigantic strength to get the clew chock up.
"Jump aloft and goose-wing it," said Ruddle
