ch who you can, Sam," he said cruelly.
"Well, sit down, then."

He lowered him to the pavement, and, accompanied by the cook, drew
off and left him to his fate. Their last glance showed them a stout,
able-bodied seaman, with his head and arms confined in a jersey, going
through contortions of an extraordinary nature to free himself, and
indulging in language which, even when filtered by the garment in
question, was of a singularly comprehensive and powerful description. He
freed himself at last, and after flinging the garment away in his anger,
picked it up again, and, carrying it under his arm, zigzagged his way
back to the ship.

His memory when he awoke next morning was not quite clear, but a hazy
recollection of having been insulted led him to treat Dick and the cook
with marked coldness, which did not wear off until they were all busy on
deck. Working at cement is a dry job, and, after hardening his heart for
some time, the stout seaman allowed the cook to call him to the galley
and present him with a mug of cold coffee left from the cabin table.

The cook washed the mug up, and, preferring the dusty deck to the heat
of the fire, sat down to wash a bowl of potatoes. It was a task which
lent itself to meditation, and his thoughts, as he looked wistfully at
the shore, reverted to Captain Gething and the best means of finding
him. It was clear that the photograph was an important factor in the
search, and, possessed with a new idea, he left the potatoes and
went down to the cabin in search of it. He found it on a shelf in the
skipper's state-room, and, passing up on deck again, stepped ashore.

From the first three people he spoke to he obtained no information
whatever. They all inspected the photograph curiously and indulged in
comments, mostly unfavorable, but all agreed that there was nobody like
it in Brittlesea. He had almost given it up as a bad job, and was about
to return, when he saw an aged fisherman reclining against a post.

"Fine day, mate," said the cook.

The old man courteously removed a short clay pipe from his puckered
mouth in order to nod, and replacing it, resumed his glance seaward.

"Ever seen anybody like that?" inquired the cook, producing the
portrait.

The old man patiently removed the pipe again, and taking the portrait,
scanned it narrowly.

"It's wonderful how they get these things up nowadays," he said in a
quavering voice; "there was nothing like that when you an' me was boys.