Pauline was grievously disappointed. She turned her wrath upon the musical and meandering Filipo.
"Filipo!" she demanded. "Go to bed at once."
For answer he reeled toward her.
"Cook boiled—boiled three minute," he said.
Then with a lurch he fell sprawling at her feet.
Boyd had started back to the cabin in haste and excitement. Pauline's first instinct was to leave the inebriated man, but pity mastered her and she stooped to lift him.
He sprang to his feet without her aid. His blue eyes looked clearly into hers. His body towered again to its commanding height as it had done when he was about to finish the Pirate.
He stooped and spoke rapidly, sharply in her ear. There was no pigeon chatter. It was straight English.
But as the door of the cabin opened again and Boyd came out, the tall form sank into itself, the knees began to rock, the arms to weave and, staggering back up the deck, he disappeared in the cabin.
Pauline stood stupefied. She had been so startled by the sudden transformation of the man that she had hardly understood his strident words.