"How do you get them?—buy them from the boatmen?"
"Some people do," observed the Sea Scout. "We don't. We dig for them when the tide's out."
"Really?" rejoined the stranger; then, dropping the subject, he pointed to a topsail schooner brought up outside the bar.
"What's she flying that flag for?" he asked.
"That's her ensign."
"I thought an ensign was always flown from the back end of a ship."
"The stern," corrected Peter. "Oh, no, not always. She's flying her ensign at the foremast head. Shows she's come foreign."
"Come foreign," repeated the other. "What does that mean?"
"She's just arrived from a foreign part," explained the Sea Scout with that touch of superiority in his tone which a seaman frequently adopts when enlightening mere landlubbers. "She's bound to keep that ensign flying until the Customs people give her clearance. They're putting off to her now."
A dinghy, manned by a couple of bronzed individuals in pilot jackets and peaked caps swept past the pierhead. The one in the stern sheets gave a friendly salutation to the Sea Scout. Peter waved back a reply.