"What d'you mean? ... poaching—it's below high-water mark, isn't it?"

"Well, sir—we don't know the rules in this country, and we were pretty well in their waters."

"But it's offshore. Why shouldn't I shoot their duck? It's not preserved, either. Poaching! I never poached anything—not since I was at school anyway." He scowled at the duck and the officers impartially. The officers clutched each other by the arms, then the Pilot walked hastily to a low-set bunk and buried his head in the pillow. The Captain changed his frown for a smile as the situation dawned on him, then, snatching the parallel rulers from the chart-table he began to belabour the most accessible portion of his gurgling subordinate's anatomy.

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Transcriber's Note