"How did you happen to do it?" cried another.
Reynolds lifted his hand to his bewildered head. "Do what?" he asked dully. "I'm not on."
"Oh, come!" said Glass, shaking him by the shoulder; "that bet you sent in last night! When the Chink said you wanted to buy the low field for all six pools, and to bet five hundred to boot that you'd win, I thought you were either drunk or crazy. Yesterday's run was four-fifty-one, a regular corker, and yet with even better weather conditions, you took only the numbers below four-thirty-one. I argued with the Chinaman 'til I was blue in the face, but he stood pat, said, you were all right, and had told him what to do. Nothing but an accident could have saved you, and it arrived. You've won the biggest pool of the crossing, don't you think it's about time for you to set 'em up? Say Martini cocktails for the crowd, eh?"
Reynolds was jostled about in congratulation and good-humored banter. Everybody was glad of the boy's success, he was an all round favorite, and some of the men who had won his money felt relieved to return it.
"Here's your cocktail, Freddy," cried Glass, "and here's to you!"
Reynolds stood in the midst of the crowd, his face flushed, his hair tumbled. With a quick movement he sent the glass and its contents spinning out of a near-by port-hole.
"Not for Frederick!" he said with emphasis, "I've been that particular kind of a fool for the last time."
Some hours later when the crowd went below to dress for dinner, Reynolds dropped behind to ask the Second Officer about the man who had been rescued.
"He is still pretty full of salt water," said the Officer, "but he is being bailed out."
"How did it happen?" asked Reynolds.