The wrath died out of the skipper's face like the slow turning down of a lamp. The fishing had been poor, and so far he had only managed to secure a single two-dollar bill. In a crisis like the one which had so suddenly arisen you cannot do yourself justice with a boat-hook.
"Fifty berries!"
"Fifty seeds!" the girl assured him. "Are you on?"
"Queen," said the skipper simply, "you said a mouthful!"
Twenty minutes later Sam was climbing up the side of the liner as it lay towering over the tug like a mountain. His clothes hung about him clammily. He squelched as he walked.
A kindly looking old gentleman who was smoking a cigar by the rail regarded him with open eyes.
"My dear sir, you're very wet," he said.
Sam passed him with a cold face and hurried through the door leading to the companion-way.
"Mummie, why is that man wet?" cried the clear voice of a little child.
Sam whizzed by, leaping down the stairs.