"Port yer helium, Becky," he growled, and the two turned to the right-about. It happened that he entered Royson's compartment. There were not many first-class passengers that night, so Royson promptly took possession of his own corner, lit a pipe, and unobtrusively watched his future commander. This was not difficult, as Stump stood near the open door, and each word he uttered was audible.
"Don't want to berth alongside sailor-men to-night, Becky," he said, after sizing up Dick in a comprehensive glance. "Them's my sailin' orders. 'Hoist no colors,' sez he, 'until you bring to at Marseilles.'"
"What's your first port of call, John?" asked his wife.
"Dunno. I'll send you a wire."
A pause. Then Mrs. Stump:
"Will you be long in Marseilles, John?"
Dick thought that this would be impossible anywhere, but Stump answered:
"Mebbe half an hour, mebbe a week. You know all that I know, Becky."
"It's funny."
Captain Stump spat, and agreed that it was—emphatically funny. A ticket inspector approached.