uriosity.

"You speak English?" he was asked curtly.

"Oh yass, I spick Ingleesh. Plenty Ingleesh."

"Right. Get this place clean. You savvy? Clean all out. Quick, presto.
Savvy?"

"Yass, I savvy."

"Go on then."

"I finish saloon...."

"You let the saloon alone. Clean this place out _now_."

There was a footfall on the staircase and the late chief officer, Caesare
Spiteri by name, came slowly down, holding by the hand-rail fixed over
the door of the alleyway. There was a dull smoulder in his large
bloodshot black eyes which seemed to bode trouble. He came forward,
elaborately oblivious of Mr. Spokesly, his shoulders hunched, his large
hand caressing his moustache. He spoke rapidly in Greek to the nervous
steward, who began to edge away.

"Hi!" called Mr. Spokesly. "Do what I tell you. See here," he added to
Mr. Spiteri, "you finished last night, I understand. You get your gear
out of this and get away ashore."

"Yah! Who are you?" snarled Mr. Spiteri in a quiet tone which made the
steward more nervous than ever.

"I'm mate of this ship, and if you don't get out in five minutes...."

He had no chance to finish. Mr. Spiteri made a circular sweep with one
of his stockinged feet, which knocked Mr. Spokesly off his own, and he
fell backwards on the settee. The effect upon him was surprising.
Reflecting upon it later, when he got away to sea, Mr. Spokesly was
surprised at himself. He certainly saw red. The filthy condition of the
ship, the degradation of the yacht _Carmencita_ to the baseness of the
_Kalkis_, and his own spiritual exaltation, reacted to fill him with an
extraordinary vitality of anger. Mr. Spiteri was not in the pink of
condition either. He had been drinking heavily the previous evening and
his head ached. He went down at the first tremendous impact of Mr.
Spokesly's fleshy and muscular body, and Mr. Spokesly came down on top
of him. He immediately sank his large white teeth in Mr. Spokesly's left
hand. Mr. Spokesly grunted. "Leggo, you bastard, leggo!" And at short
range mashed the Spiteri ear, neck, and jaw hard and fast. Mr. Spiteri
let go, but his antagonist was oblivious until he saw the man's face
whiten and sag loosely under his blows, while from his own head, where
the plaster had come off in the struggle, blood began to drip over them
both.

Mr. Spokesly got up, breathing hard, and pointed into the room.

"Get busy," he said to the steward, "and clean all up. Shift this out of
the