Send the mate to the helm.

I'll have a sleep." Then the sun vanished beneath the roaring open sea, and, escaped from all the power of Spain, the _Margaret_ turned her scarred and splintered bow for Ushant and for England.
ENVOI Ten years had gone by since Captain Smith took the good ship _Margaret_ across the bar of the Guadalquiver in a very notable fashion.

It was late May in Essex, and all the woods were green, and all the birds sang, and all the meadows were bright with flowers.

Down in the lovely vale of Dedham there was a long, low house with many gables--a charming old house of red brick and timbers already black with age.

It stood upon a little hill, backed with woods, and from it a long avenue of ancient oaks ran across the park to the road which led to Colchester and London.
Down that avenue on this May afternoon an aged, white-haired man, with quick black eyes, was walking, and with him three children--very beautiful children--a boy of about nine and two little girls, who clung to his hand and garments and pestered him with questions.
"Where are we going, Grandfather ?" asked one little girl.
"To see Captain Smith, my dear," he answered.
"I don't like Captain Smith," said the other little girl; "he is so fat, and says nothing." "I do," broke in the boy, "he gave me a fine knife to use when I am a sailor, and Mother does, and Father, yes, and Grandad too, because he saved him when the cruel Spaniards wanted to put him in the fire.