"Naval captain's daughter!" he exclaimed. "Might be. Sub-lieutenants become captains, or at least some of them do; and subs have been known to do rash acts when they are young. But when a woman, whose accent, manners, and grammar are decidedly rocky, goes out of her way to assert that she's a naval officer's daughter, well then, snap goes the last thread of your credulity. My dear old thing, we're going to have some fun this trip, so get busy."
"Who is the girl—the girl who was almost the last on board?" asked Mostyn, broaching the long-deferred question at last. "Has she no friends on the ship?"
"Goodness only knows!" ejaculated the Third Officer fervently. "She's a Miss Baird, and I think she's by herself. We'll find out in due course. Hark! Yes, at it again! It's poor old Selwyn getting it this time."
Through a partly open skylight came the now familiar voice of Mrs. Shallop, almost ear-piercing in its intensity and raucous in its tone. Mingled with the strident outbursts of the woman came short, incompleted protests from the doctor, who apparently was not able to hold his own.
"At it again," reiterated Anstey. "She's trying the naval captain stunt on the doc. I guess—by Jove! Wait till she tackles the Old Man."
Just then Dr. Selwyn appeared on the boat-deck. He was a dapper little man with the reputation of being a skilful and rapid surgeon. He could have commanded a large practice in town, but, preferring the country to city life, was content with a moderate income and plenty of hard work in congenial surroundings. In manner he was affable, and possessed an old-world courtesy that made him extremely popular. He was mild in speech, and rarely lost his temper; but when he came on deck it was obvious to both Peter and Anstey that he was labouring under suppressed anger.
"Morning, Doc," was the Third Officer's greeting. "Up for a breather?"
Selwyn braced his shoulders and gazed out to starboard. Nine miles to the nor'ard the white cliffs of the Isle of Wight stood out clearly against the dark grey clouds.
"Yes," he agreed. "A breather. Had a fairly stiff time with sundry patients. Sort of thing one must expect in the early days of a voyage. What's that land over there?"
"St. Catherine's," replied Anstey. "If it's clear enough we may sight the Isle of Purbeck, but I doubt it. So take your last look at Old England for a while, Doctor."