a homeward passage--the sort of passage I would not
wish to my bitterest enemy. That imaginary ship seemed to labour under
a most comprehensive curse. It's no use enlarging on these never-ending
misfortunes; suffice it to say that long before the end I would have
welcomed with gratitude an opportunity to exchange into the Flying
Dutchman. Finally he shoved me into the North Sea (I suppose) and
provided me with a lee shore with outlying sand-banks--the Dutch coast,
presumably. Distance, eight miles. The evidence of such implacable
animosity deprived me of speech for quite half a minute.

"Well," he said--for our pace had been very smart, indeed, till then.

"I will have to think a little, sir."

"Doesn't look as if there were much time to think," he muttered,
sardonically, from under his hand.

"No, sir," I said, with some warmth. "Not on board a ship, I could see.
But so many accidents have happened that I really can't remember what
there's left for me to work with."

Still half averted, and with his eyes concealed, he made unexpectedly a
grunting remark.

"You've done very well."

"Have I the two anchors at the bow, sir?" I asked.

"Yes."

I prepared myself then, as a last hope for the ship, to let them both
go in the most effectual manner, when his infernal system of testing
resourcefulness came into play again.

"But there's only one cable. You've lost the other."

It was exasperating.

"Then I would back them, if I could, and tail the heaviest hawser on
board on the end of the chain before letting go, and if she parted from
that, which is quite likely, I would just do nothing. She would have to
go."

"Nothing more to do, eh?"

"No, sir. I could do no more."

He gave a bitter half-laugh.

"You could always say your prayers."

He got up, stretched himself, and yawned slightly. It was a sallow,
strong, unamiable face. He put me, in a surly, bored fashion, through
the usual questions as to lights and signals, and I escaped from the
room thank fully--passed! Forty minutes! And again I walked on air
along Tower Hill, where so many good men had lost their heads because, I
suppose, they were not resourceful enough to save them. And in my heart
of hearts I had no objection to meeting that examiner once more when the
third and last ordeal became due in another year or so. I even hoped
I should. I knew the worst of him now, and forty minutes is not an
unreasonable time. Yes, I distinctly hoped. . . .