“More tender-hearted,” said the skipper.
“It ain’t a bad sort o’ face, now I come to look at it,” said the baffled mate, regarding it closely. “Seems to me I’ve seen somebody very much like it—a girl, I think—but I can’t say where.”
“Bearded lady at a fair, I should think,” said the skipper bluffly.
Conversation was interrupted by the appearance of Henry, who, seeing the photograph in the mate’s hand, at once began putting the butter away. A glance told him that the mate was holding it upside down, and conscience told him that this was for his benefit. He therefore rigidly averted his gaze while clearing the table, and in a small mental ledger, which he kept with scrupulous care for items such as these, made a debit entry in the mate’s account.
“Boy,” said the skipper suddenly.
“Sir,” said Henry.
“You’re a fairly sharp youngster, I think,” said the skipper. “Take hold o’ that photo there.”
Henry’s face suffused with a great joy. He looked derisively at the mate and took the photograph from him, listening intently to much the same instructions as had been previously given to the mate. “And you can take it for’ard,” concluded the skipper, “and let the men see it.”
“The men?” said Henry in astonishment.
“Yes, the men; don’t I speak plain?” retorted the skipper.