“Do you mean to tell me—” began the skipper.
“Somebody’s been having a joke with you, I tell you,” repeated the doctor, as the men, with sundry oaths, half of relief, half of dudgeon, got out of bed and began groping for their clothes. “Who is it, do you think?”
The skipper shook his head, and the mate, following his lead, in duty bound, shook his; but a little while after, as they sat by the wheel smoking and waiting for the men to return to work the cargo out, they were more confidential. The skipper removed his pipe from his mouth, and, having eyed the mate for some time in silence, jerked his thumb in the direction of the railway station. The mate, with a woe-begone nod, assented.
THE CABIN PASSENGER
The captain of the Fearless came on to the wharf in a manner more suggestive of deer-stalking than that of a prosaic shipmaster returning to his craft. He dodged round an empty van, lurked behind an empty barrel, flitted from that to a post, and finally from the interior of a steam crane peeped melodramatically on to the deck of his craft.
To the ordinary observer there was no cause for alarm. The decks were a bit slippery but not dangerous except to a novice; the hatches were on, and in the lighted galley the cook might be discovered moving about in a manner indicative of quiet security and an untroubled conscience.
With a last glance behind him the skipper descended from the crane and stepped lightly aboard.
“Hist,” said the cook, coming out quietly. “I’ve been watching for you to come.”
“Damned fine idea of watching you’ve got,” said the skipper irritably. “What is it?”
The cook jerked his thumb towards the cabin. “He’s down there,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “The mate said when you came aboard you was just to go and stand near the companion and whistle ‘God Save the Queen’ and he’ll come up to you to see what’s to be done.”