st tell Plouff. He had mentioned to Plouff the
singular behaviour of the chief officer when he, the steward, had
attempted to enter that gentleman's cabin. Plouff had laughed and pushed
him out of the road. It was time to call Plouff to relieve the chief
officer. He hurried to the galley to fetch the stew. He lifted the
canvas flap which screened the lights from a seaward view and found
Plouff seated in a corner talking to the cook.

"Hi, Jo," he whispered, "Madama on sheep! Madama on sheep! Yes."

"What's the matter with you?" demanded Plouff disdainfully. "What are
you makin' that funny face for?"

"She come oop," went on the steward with much dramatic illustration. "I
look, see Madama. You savvy? Very nice. Very beautiful."

"Has she come out?" asked Plouff with interest.

"Yaas. She come oop."

"I'll go up and tell the mate," said Plouff. "You savvy, Nicholas,
plenty mon' if you look after her. Fix her up. The mate, you savvy?" and
Mr. Plouff rubbed the sides of his two forefingers together, to indicate
the tender relations existing between Mr. Spokesly and the lady.

"Oh, yaas, I savvy all right, Jo." The steward writhed in his impotence
to express the completeness of his comprehension, and hurried away.

Mr. Spokesly listened in silence to the news.

"I'll go down," he said. "If you see a light of any sort, stamp on the
deck."

"Well, I should think so. I ain't likely to stand on my head, am I?"
said Plouff, peeping at the compass.

Mr. Spokesly went down without replying to this brilliant sally. He
stood for a moment looking over the rail at the sullen end of the
sunset, a smudge of dusky orange smeared with bands of black and bronze,
and wondered what the night would bring for them all. The little ship
was moving slowly through a calm sea that shone like polished black
marble in the sombre light from the west. Ahead, the sky and sea merged
indistinguishably in the darkness. No light showed on the ship. She
moved, a shadow among shadows, with no more than a faint hissing rumble
from her engines. Mr. Spokesly moved aft, inspired by a wish to see for
himself if all the scuttles were screened. He found the engineer smoking
near the engine hatch.

"All dark?" he said, pausing.

"Everything's all right here, Mister Mate," said the man, a quiet
creature with an unexpected desire to give every satisfaction. Mr.
Spokesly was puzzled to account for the captain's dislike of Mr. Cassar.

"Why don't you go a