The gentlemen who at this time inhabited the banks
of the Danube could not be made to part with money without
some strong reasons for doing so. The Titanic and renowned
captain, having exhausted a vocabulary that was awful to
listen to, proceeded to lock the office door on the inside.
That having been satisfactorily done, he proceeded to unrobe
himself of an article of apparel; which movement, under
certain conditions, is always suggestive of coming trouble.
The quick brain of the Levantine gentleman saw in the
bellicose attitude assumed possibilities of great bodily
harm and suffering to himself; on which he became effusively
apologetic, and declaimed with vigorous gesticulation
against the carelessness of his "account clerk who had
committed a glaring error, such as justified his immediate
dismissal!" That stalwart hero of many rights had not
appealed in vain. He got his money and his clearance, and
made a well-chosen and impressive little speech on the
wisdom of honest dealing. His convert for the time being
became much affected, declaring that he had never met with a
gentleman whose words had made such a strange impression on
him!

This then was the kind of creature who wrought into its
present shapes and aspects England's Mercantile Marine. In
carrying out his destiny he lashed about him with something
of the elemental aimlessness of his mother the sea. The next
chapter will show how the captain of to-day grew up and,
literally, got licked into his present form at the rough and
cruel hands of the old-time skipper.

CHAPTER III

A CABIN-BOY'S START AT SEA

During recent years I have had the opportunity of listening
to many speeches on nautical subjects. Some of them have not
only been instructive but interesting, inasmuch as they have
often enabled me to get a glimpse into the layman's manner
of thinking on these questions. It invariably happens,
however, that gentlemen, in their zeal to display maritime
knowledge, commit the error of dealing with a phase of it
that carries them into deep water; their vocabulary becomes
exhausted, and they speedily breathe their last in the
oft-repeated tale that the "old-fashioned sailor is an
extinct creature," and, judging from the earnest vehemence
that is thrown into it, they convey the impression that
their dictum is to be understood as emphatically original.
Well, I will let that go, and will merely observe how
distressingly superficial the knowledge is as