Before Lieutenant O'Riley reached the ship he saw that everything about her had been sacrificed to speed. Her spars, especially, were unusually heavy for a craft of her size.
The British officer was received by a little, thin, elderly man wearing a Panama hat and speaking with a strong Yankee accent.
"Produce your papers, if you please," said O'Riley. They were handed out at once, and seemed to be perfectly regular.
"What have you got on board?" was the next question.
"General cargo—dry goods, and so on."
"Why isn't your name on the register?"
"Ain't it now? Well, I guess it must be because this is a new ship.
We can't put our name on by telegraph, mister."
"Just tell your men to knock off the hatches. I want to have a look at your cargo."
The skipper shook his head.
"I've been delayed long enough," said he, "and have lost a great part of the only wind we've had in this darned latitude for a week."