The
"pirate" at once said:

"Now, let me handle him."

A few moments later Boyd cornered his ancient adversary on a deserted
and wind-swept piece of deck.

"Old man," snarled the "pirate," "you say all my stories are lies.
Only your gray hairs have saved you from a thrashing before this."

"If it's my gray hairs that stop you, I'll remove that obstacle."

The "pirate" was amazed to see the aged person take off his hat and
remove a gray wig with his left hand while his right fist collided with
the "pirate's" eye. When consciousness returned he was lying on the
deck with no living thing in sight but a seagull aeroplaning on slanted
wings over his head. His return to the party was more rueful than
Owen's.

"What is the matter with your eye, Mr. Boyd?" asked Pauline
innocently.

"Why, you see," said the "pirate," "I was looking at a girl with one of
these new slit skirts and I stumbled and bumped against a ventilator."

"I see," commented Owen to help him out. "You sort of slipped on a
sex-appeal, so to speak."

"Yes," said the sailor, gratefully. "It was just like that."

"It's a lie," said a high, thin voice from somewhere, and they noticed
that a porthole behind them was open.

Pauline found conversation difficult. Hicks, as a man of few words,
which gave him an undeserved reputation for wisdom. The "pirate" had
given up spinning yams on account of the old man's unfailing
interruption. Owen's mind, too, was preoccupied with a growing
suspicion. So the adventurous young lady went to her stateroom and
wrote a letter to Harry.

The sailor intimated that he had important news which could be only
told in the privacy of Owen's stateroom. The secretary suspected this
to be only a maneuver on the "pirate's" part to get acquainted with the
whiskey he knew Owen kept with him. But the seafarer unfolded the tale
of his black eye not truthfully nor accurately, except in that he had
recognized Harry under the disguise of the old man.

"I more than half suspected it," said Owen, "and I have been watching
his stateroom. But there is no way any one can see into his room
unless by getting a look in through the porthole."

"And there's where you get a good idea," said the "pirate."

"But there's no good having a peep' at him without his disguise now
that it's Harry," objected Hicks.

"No," said the "pirate," turning on Owen his lusterless sea-green eyes,
faded by much grog to a dimness that reminded one of