y fire?"
"I did," replied Mr. Stobell, laying his pipe carefully on the deck.
"Some people tell you to tie the pork to a bit o' string after frying
it," said Brisket, "but that's what I call overdoing it. I think it's
quite enough to describe its cooking, don't you?"
"Plenty," said Stobell. "Have one o' my matches," he said, proffering
his box to Tredgold, who was about to relight his cigar with a fusee.
"Thanks, I prefer this," said Tredgold.
Mr. Stobell put his box in his pocket again and, sitting lumpily in his
chair, gazed in a brooding fashion at the side.
"Talking about pork," began Brisket, "reminds me--"
"What! ain't you got over that joke yet?" inquired Mr. Stobell, glaring
at him. "Poor Chalk can't help his feelings."
"No, no," said the captain, staring back.
"People can't help being sea-sick," said Stobell, fiercely.
"Certainly not, sir," agreed the captain.
"There's no disgrace in it," continued Mr. Stobell, with unusual
fluency, "and nothing funny about it that I can see."
"Certainly not, sir," said the perplexed captain again. "I was just
going to point out to you how, talking about pork--"
"I know you was," stormed Mr. Stobell, rising from his chair and lurching
forward heavily. "D'ye think I couldn't hear you? Prating, and prating,
and pra----"
He disappeared below, and the captain, after exchanging a significant
grin with Mr. Tredgold, put his hands behind his back and began to pace
the deck, musing solemnly on the folly of trusting to appearances.
Sea-sickness wore off after a day or two, and was succeeded by the
monotony of life on board a small ship. Week after week they saw nothing
but sea and sky, and Mr. Chalk, thirsting for change, thought with
wistful eagerness of the palm-girt islands of the Fijian Archipelago to
which Captain Brisket had been bidden to steer. In the privacy of their
own cabin the captain and Mr. Duckett discussed with great earnestness
the nature of the secret which they felt certain was responsible for the
voyage.
[Illustration: "The captain and Mr. Duckett discussed with great
earnestness the nature of the secret."]
CHAPTER XVI
It is an article of belief with some old-fashioned people that children
should have no secrets from their parents, and, though not a model father
in every way, Mr. Vickers felt keenly the fact that his daughter was
keeping something from him. On two or three occasions since the date of
sailing o
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