"That's what we'll do," said Mr. Dainopoulos in a loud, sympathetic voice, "and I'll see if I can't get you a better anchorage. This afternoon I expect I'll have a lighter for you. How will that do, Captain?"
"I expect nothing, and I'll not be disappointed," replied the captain. "My experience leads me to expect things when I get them. If anything has happened on board since I left, don't blame me. I give you full warning. The man is not to be trusted. I have difficulty in keeping my hands off him. I only refrain as a matter of dignity. I would not soil my hands with such—such riff-raff. I hope I am not misunderstood. There's a limit to human endurance, that's all."
"I know how it is, Captain. Don't you worry. Only, you know as well as I do he was the only man I could get at the time."
"I make no charges," said Captain Rannie, suddenly rising to some six feet two, to Mr. Spokesly's intense astonishment. "I hope I am above that sort of thing. But, I must really say, things could be managed better if more attention was paid to the express wishes of the master of the vessel." And without looking up or indicating in any way that he was conscious of their presence, Captain Rannie walked away and disappeared into the Place de la Liberté.
Mr. Dainopoulos looked after him for a moment with an expression of perplexity on his marred features and then sat down.
"What's the matter with him?" inquired Mr. Spokesly, very much interested. "Is he touched at all?"
"No, he's all right. Only he grumble grumble too much," said Mr. Dainopoulos scratching his chin philosophically.
"I should think he does if he's always like that. What is his job worth?"
"Seven hundred drachma a month I pay him, and he says it's not enough."
"That so? Hm!" Mr. Spokesly was thinking. "That's about thirty pound a month. And I suppose he finds the ship." Mr. Dainopoulos nodded.