s of brooding care;
and sucking at a curved black mouthpiece, he presented such a heavy
overhanging profile that even the Serang could not help reflecting
sometimes upon the extreme unloveliness of some white men.

Captain Whalley seemed to brace himself up in his chair, but gave no
recognition whatever to his presence. The other puffed jets of smoke;
then suddenly--

"I could never understand that new mania of yours of having this Malay
here for your shadow, partner."

Captain Whalley got up from the chair in all his imposing stature and
walked across to the binnacle, holding such an unswerving course that
the other had to back away hurriedly, and remained as if intimidated,
with the pipe trembling in his hand. "Walk over me now," he muttered in
a sort of astounded and discomfited whisper. Then slowly and distinctly
he said--

"I--am--not--dirt." And then added defiantly, "As you seem to think."

The Serang jerked out--

"See the palms now, Tuan."

Captain Whalley strode forward to the rail; but his eyes, instead of
going straight to the point, with the assured keen glance of a sailor,
wandered irresolutely in space, as though he, the discoverer of new
routes, had lost his way upon this narrow sea.

Another white man, the mate, came up on the bridge. He was tall, young,
lean, with a mustache like a trooper, and something malicious in the
eye. He took up a position beside the engineer. Captain Whalley, with
his back to them, inquired--

"What's on the log?"

"Eighty-five," answered the mate quickly, and nudged the engineer with
his elbow.

Captain Whalley's muscular hands squeezed the iron rail with an
extraordinary force; his eyes glared with an enormous effort; he knitted
his eyebrows, the perspiration fell from under his hat,--and in a
faint voice he murmured, "Steady her, Serang--when she is on the proper
bearing."

The silent Malay stepped back, waited a little, and lifted his arm
warningly to the helmsman. The wheel revolved rapidly to meet the swing
of the ship. Again the made nudged the engineer. But Massy turned upon
him.

"Mr. Sterne," he said violently, "let me tell you--as a shipowner--that
you are no better than a confounded fool."

VII

Sterne went down smirking and apparently not at all disconcerted, but
the engineer Massy remained on the bridge, moving about with uneasy
self-assertion. Everybody on board was his inferior--everyone without
exception. He paid their wages and found t