ain's patience would be exhausted, his strident voice
could be heard calling upon the caricaturist to come forth and show
himself, and eventually he might be seen _en route_ to his cabin with
the box of chessmen under one arm and his opponent under the other.

[Illustration: CHESS.]

I was cruel enough on more than one occasion to follow them and witness
the sequel.

"Your move, now--your move!"

"Ah, Captain! I do veel zo ill! Ze ship it do go up and down, up and
down, until I do not know vich is ze bishop and vich is ze queen!"

"Nonsense, sir, nonsense! Your move--look sharp, and I'll soon have you
mated!"

The poor artist _did_ move, and quickly too, but it was to the outside
of the cabin!

The Captain was triumphant at table, telling us of his victory, but his
poor opponent could only point to his untouched plate and to the waves
dashing against the portholes, and with that shrug of the shoulders, so
suggestive to witness but so difficult to describe, would thus in dumb
show explain the cause of his defeat.

I remember well on one beautiful afternoon, the sky bright and the sea
calm, just before the pilot came on board when we were nearing the
States, Signor Prosperi (for that was his name) came up to me, his face
the very embodiment of triumph:

"Ah, I have beaten ze Captain at last--_but ze sea is smooth_!"

On the outward voyage, as I said before, we had a host in Mr. Edward
Lloyd, but he was under contract not to warble until a certain day which
had been fixed in New York, and no doubt his presence had a deterrent
effect upon the amateur talent, with the exception of one lady, who came
up to Mr. Lloyd and said:

"You really _must_ sing;--you really _must_!"

"I am very sorry, madam, but I really can't--I am not my own master in
this matter."

"Oh, but you must," she rejoined. "I have promised that if you will
sing, _I_ will!"

An American who had "made his pile," as the Yankees say, remarked to the
hard-worked vocalist:

"I think, sir, that as you are endowed with such a beautiful voice you
ought by it to benefit such a deserving entertainment as this."

"Certainly," replied the world-famed tenor. "My fee for singing is fifty
guineas, and I will be pleased to oblige the company if you will pay a
cheque for that amount into the sailors' fund."

[Illustration: MR. LLOYD AND THE LADY. "IF YOU WILL SING, _I_ WILL!"]

And, in my opinion, a right good answer too. These middle-men and their
wiv