The captain rolled out of the room, growling, but subdued.
Mr. Keedy gave me what was for him an affable smile, a hitching up nearer to his nose of that paint-streak mustache.
“We may as well start in an acquaintance,” he said. He passed my pocket-book back. “My name is Marcena Keedy, partner of Cap’n Holstrom. Step up here, gents,” he commanded the two men who had squatted my windpipe. “This is Number-one Jones; this is Number-two Jones.” They ducked salute. They had paint-brush chin beards and cock eyes, and were evidently twins. “First and second mates, new hired for the Zizania.” He did not bother to introduce Ingot Ike.
He pushed a button on the wall.
“We’ll take something to gum the edges of sociability, gents. There’s nothing like gents starting in sociable when they can, and staying sociable as long as they can, providing any gent proves himself all right, as he says he is.”
He gave me a significant and mighty sharp look, sat down, and jigged one leg over the other, trying hard to keep up his affable smile.
We kept on being sociable for half an hour or more.
At last back came Capt. Rask Holstrom. He was tugging my duffle-bag, and on his heels was his daughter. She had my little valise. She did not show any especial symptoms of embarrassment at being in such a joint alone with men. She walked straight to me and gave me the valise. What was better, she gave me a smile.
“I misunderstood you, sir, on short acquaintance,” she said. “I hope you will excuse me.”
She looked me straight in the eyes without coquetry, a gaze as level and candid as that of man to man.