"I wish to say to you, sir," said Harold, politely, "that if you propose to have services on board your ship, as there seems to be no minister on board but myself, I shall be most willing to conduct them."
"I propose no such thing," was the blunt reply; "this is a vessel, and not a Methodist chapel."
"But I think—"
"I don't care what you think," interrupted the bear. "Who are you, that you want to bring your preaching and prosing here?"
"I am a missionary," was Harold's reply.
"One of those amiable idiots who expect to wash blackamoors white," growled the captain; "not even a reg'lar parson."
"I am in orders," said the young clergyman, who was slightly nettled by the remark.
"Orders! What are your orders to me? There are no orders here to be obeyed but mine;" the captain emphasised his words by giving a slight stamp with his broad, heavy foot. "And we don't want no Jonahs here; I've read enough of the Bible in schooldays to know that the first 'un with his preaching nearly sent a ship—crew, cargo, and all—to the bottom o' the sea. I won't have that sort of thing in my vessel," added the captain, with a profane oath.
"'Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain,'" said Harold, sternly.
