ter of course, and have to give up
everything."

"Who's in charge of this lunacy?" asked Macandrew. His voice was a
little truculent.

"All right, Chief. I shan't remember his name any the better because
you're annoyed with me. I haven't seen the skipper yet. I think I heard
him called Purdy."

"Purdy? Bill Purdy?" Macandrew was incredulous. "Do you know what
you've let yourself in for? If Purdy's got the job, I know why. Nobody
else would take it, and he's the last man, anyway, who ought to have it."

"What, drink?" asked Hanson.

"Lord, no. Not Purdy. No. It's the man himself. I've known him a long
time, and I like him, but he'll never do. He can't make up his mind to a
course. Don't you remember the _Campeachy_ case? I expect it was before
your time. Purdy had her. He was coming up-Channel, and got nervous
over the weather, and put into Portland for a pilot. There was no pilot.
So he decided to put out again and go on. It never occurred to him that
as he was in shelter he'd better stay there till a pilot arrived, because
getting out of that was exactly when he'd want one. He put her ashore.
That was like Purdy, to play for safety and make a wreck. When he got
over the fuss Lloyd's raised about it he refused to take command again
for some time. He couldn't even make up his mind whether he wanted a
ship at all."

Hanson listened to this with the air of one who was being reassured in a
doubtful enterprise.

"You mistake me, Chief," he said. "You are only improving my reasons for
going. Not only is the ship crank, but so is her skipper. Now tell me
. . ."

Macandrew frowned at his junior, and his curiously pale eyes became
distinctly inhuman. I believe he thought his counsel was being laughed
at. But the door opened, and he touched Hanson's arm. A little man of
middle age stood there, who turned, and actually prevented the doors from
swinging together with their usual announcement of another customer. For
only a moment he raised his downcast eyes to see who was there, and then
nodded sadly to Macandrew. His drooping moustache conformed to the
downward lines of his face, which was that of a man who had been long
observing life with understanding, and had not a lively opinion of it.

Macandrew's demeanour changed. It was now mild and almost affectionate
as he greeted the little man. "Come over here, Purdy, and tell us what
you've been doing. Here's Hanson, this young fellow. I he